#and she has anger issues and snapped multiple times at me while at work and like had breakdowns that i tried to help diffuse

[tomsmother]

Pre drinking a lil to go to an expectedly awkward farewell dinner with my ex-bosses/landlords/friends.... and now the dudes dad is coming which tbh makes it even weirder? We used to be close and had lots of fun drinking together (maybe too much fun to be Appropriate btw bosses and employee but ... hey! I liked it) and now I don't know what has been said behind closed doors, but they're both so awkward with me now and barely drink and don't say too much and it's like fucking crickets when we hang?? I wanna know

[angelsdean]

All these thoughts also prompted me to think abt what John and Mary's fights were often about, especially the fight where John leaves and Dean then comforts Mary. And I think a big part of it was Mary keeping secrets and sneaking around with regard to hunting.

We know she was still hunting in 1980, when she saves Asa Fox. Dean would've been a year old and the hunt is not local, it's up in Canada. Mary says she's been tracking this werewolf for a long time and that they have history. I do think when she says "a long time" she means years and that she hasn't actively been tracking it but it's been something on the back-burner that she's kept an eye on all these years. But that still means she left for a number of days at the very least, and I wonder what she told John. What excuse did she come up with to justify suddenly taking off when they have a baby at home. And no, I don't think she needed to be there as "the mom" to take care of Dean or that she can't spend time away from the home or that fathers are incapable of taking care of their children or anything like that. But I think John would certainly wonder what's taking her away from them so suddenly. What could possibly be so important. And with a hunt like this, I don't think she could've exactly given him a set time-frame for her return.

Now, imagine that happening multiple times. Imagine that happening again when Sam is just a few months old. She says she has to go visit her uncle who's poorly (father of the Campbell cousins. The uncle that paid for her headstone when she died). And then she's gone for longer than she anticipated. And John is just suspicious. And when she comes back they argue about it. "I know you're lying! Just tell me the truth, Mary! What, are you seeing someone else?" And Mary holding firm to her lies because her family cannot know about the supernatural and hunting. Because she doesn't want her kids growing up like she did. Because John is her suburban fairytale. He can't know. And then John snaps. He's pissed. He thinks she's cheating while he's working to provide for the family AND watching the kids in her absence. So he flings a "Is Sam even mine?" at her in his rage and she slaps him and tells him "Don't you dare" and then John storms out in a huff but then calls later to talk about it more and Mary shuts him down. "No, John. … We’re not having this conversation again... Think about what? … You’ve two boys at home. …"

I can imagine a version of this phone call going something like this:

John calls. Maybe apologizes for what he said, but mostly just wants her to be honest with him.

John: Please, Mary, can we just talk about this.

Mary: No, John.

John: I just want you to tell me the truth! What are you hiding? What's going on that you can't tell me?

Mary: We're not having this conversation again.

John: Oh okay, 'we're not having this conversation again.' Well then can you blame me for where my mind is going? What would you think, huh?

Mary: Think about what?

John: You know how it looks, Mary. And I just, I can't keep doing this--

Mary: You have two boys at home. (and ohh the delicious irony of that in the context of her being the one leaving to continue hunting in secret)

John, probably, since the convo seems to continue: Oh that is rich coming from you right now, Mary.

Anyways, this is only one of many many scenarios I can imagine of their fights. And it's perhaps a little too sympathetic to John, but! I enjoy thinking of John complexly, especially considering how Young John is presented in SPN, and also John in the opening scene of the Pilot seems like the easy-going family man, who definitely had underlying issues prior to Mary's death (thank you SPNWIN for confirming that) but clearly those issues got worse after Mary's death, and for the most part he wasn't yet the guy we see him become after he is transformed by grief and anger. Also s12 Mary's rose-tinted recollections of John being such a good father, which starkly contrast to Dean's later memories of John, I think it's not a huge leap to say John pre-Mary's death was a good father, and I think seeing Mary leave them (likely repeatedly) under secretive circumstances for days at a time would have bothered John back then and been a continuous point of contention in their marriage.

And again, this is all simply one angle of interpretation, theorizing, and headcanoning and by no means the only possible scenario.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

(i kept forgetting to make this post for a while and only remembered when i was reading @antispopausandstuff 's recent post; sorry for the tag!)

i have to say this: catra having a mental breakdown basically every single season was pathetic.

usually villains have a third-act breakdown where they realize that they're losing to the heroes or they're losing control over their own allies, and they spiral into anger and desperation.

azula's spiralling in s3 of atla is a clear example of this, as she goes from the level-headed, cunning prodigy to a child who has lost everyone in her life and is desperately trying to use fear to keep people around. it's tragic because yes, she's a horrible person who enjoys torturing people and seeing them in pain, but she's also a 13 year old who was groomed into the perfect soldier by her father.

not all third-act breakdowns are like this though. sometimes instead of feeling bad for the villain, we feel satisfied seeing their downfall, because they weren't a sympathetic character in the slightest and they deserved to have that realization right before getting their ass whooped.

with catra, i get neither of these. i guess i felt a little bad for her the first time and i felt satisfied the second time, but then it just got boring.

there was no need for her to have a meltdown in every single season, only for the writers to use it as an excuse to make catra do even worse shit and hurt more people.

not to mention, her mental state wasn't consistent enough during these breakdowns. let me explain. let's take the s3 one, for instance.

catra is clearly rattled by the knowledge that shadow weaver picked adora over her (which.. wow who would have thought. but whatever). she is dissociating as she walks back to scorpia, there are tears in her eyes, she's devastated.

but then, as soon as catra reaches the horde with adora as her prisoner, she seems perfectly fine. she's calm and smirking proudly as she throws a bound adora to the floor.

and then when entrapta tries to oppose catra's attempts at opening the portal, oh no! catra is not mentally well again and she electrocutes entrapta. and she threatens to do the same to scorpia.

and then she goes right back to being calm and tells hordak that entrapta betrayed him (i'm sorry i don't care how good at lying someone is, i doubt they can deliver such a convincing lie when they are in a poor mental state) and mocks him for trusting entrapta.

and then throughout the portal sequence, catra is oddly calm. not just during the false reality, when she was pretending that everything was normal, but even after that when she starts sadistically torturing adora.

this doesn't seem like a character who finally snapped and is doing horrible things in a desperate attempt to regain control. it reads as a character who always wanted to do horrible things and finally got the chance to do it.

i can't view catra's breakdown in s3 as sympathetic because her actions seemed so intentional. the writers didn't even try to make it look like catra was going through some serious mental health issues and was only making such a dangerous choice because of that.

coming back to my original point, repeating a trope (especially a one-time trope like this) quickly gets stale. and it's even funnier when you think about the fact that catra basically had a dedicated mental breakdown every season and still didn't learn her lesson.

you stop feeling sorry for her and start rolling your eyes, wondering what atrocities she's going to commit this time. it's just the same thing over and over again, and it's funny that the writers used this as a way to keep reminding viewers that catra is a poor traumatized baby who definitely didn't make the choices that led to all this.

it's just bad writing. sure, in real life, people may have multiple breakdowns if they going through some shit. i can certainly attest. but it just doesn't work from a story point of view, especially when the writers refuse to hold catra accountable for your actions. mental health issues or not, you are responsible for your actions and you should work on changing your unhealthy coping mechanisms.

[psychoticallytrans]

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that as a case manager in a local emergency homeless shelter. I work / have worked with several clients who have anger issues.

I saw your post containing the "pencil trick" a while ago, and since then, I don't go to work without a small handful of unsharpened pencils in my pocket. My fiancé and coworkers think I'm crazy, but teaching my clients the "pencil trick" has diffused a few tense moments, even with clients who DON'T tell me they have anger issues. Sometimes they're having a panic/anxiety attack for other reasons, or they're simply (justifiably, given their circumstances) angry about something.

"I really don't mean to interrupt, but it seems like you need a minute. Let me go [make a phone call / talk to my supervisor / make copies or printouts of that paperwork you asked for]." I pull out my handful of pencils, explain that having a physical outlet has always been helpful for me (I'm on the autism spectrum and pencils are great stim toys, too! Having an excuse to keep four of them on-hand is a win!), break one with my thumbs, and then offer them a snack or a glass of water as I give them a few minutes to do what they like with the pencils.

Usually, the person really did just need a snack, a drink, and/or a few minutes alone. Less often, they've left the room while I was gone, which tells me I probably wasn't getting much more progress from that conversation anyway. Sometimes, one or two more pencils have been snapped. One time, ALL of them were snapped, multiple times each (I offered her more pencils and another few minutes alone, but she already felt a lot better lmao).

Anyway, I came across your blog and realized you were the one who taught me that trick. It gets me some funny looks, but when it works it WORKS. Just wanted to say thank you! 😊

Sometimes, you just need to break something, and pencils are both cheap and satisfying. I'm glad my trick is spreading!

A bit of fun backstory on it for anyone who's wondering. I invented it in art class. Another student was getting really agitated that their piece, which they were hoping to enter in the county fair, was not turning out. They'd tried pacing, but were just getting more and more worked up.

Now, at this point, my strategy for myself was "go into the woods and break sticks." This was art class, so there were no sticks. There was, however, an abundance of pencils that had been mistreated by years of middle schoolers.

So, I offered one to them, explained my reasoning, and they pretty much snatched it out of my hand, snapped it clean in half, and then blinked at me. "How are you feeling?" "...much better, actually."

They won second place in their age category. Not strictly related to the above, but I love a happy ending.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Grey's Anatomy: Take Me to Church (21x02)

You know how annoyed I have to be about a plot line for me to be on Teddy's side about something?

Cons:

Sometimes it just legitimately feels as if this show is punking me with the character of Catherine Fox. There was no real mention in this whole episode about her bullshit treatment of everyone else. Oh, Teddy and Owen are back at the hospital, and Amelia still has a job, and we're just kind of not talking about Meredith's research here... because Catherine is maybe dying. It's just so tedious! Do you want me to feel anger and frustration because Catherine is so fucking ridiculous and unreasonable, or do you want me to feel tender and sad about her health? Because I'm feeling the former, and I'm not feeling the latter, sorry!

Winston, I love you, but please stop trying to discourage Richard from stepping down. This dude needs to get out of the OR and away from this hospital! I love Richard, but my GOODNESS, they've run out of things to do with his character in a major way. I also just continue to not give a crap about Lucas Adams, and I find the actor kind of irritating? He's got that Disney Channel teenage-heartthrob vibe, and it's kind of cloying. I don't know if that makes any sense, but that's how I see it. He has that icky combination of being incredibly privileged but then also feeling constantly sorry for himself. I'm with Simone on this one; when she brought up the possibility of him being an intern again while the rest of them advance, and asking if it's going to cause issues, I think she's dead-on. I'm already dreading watching that play out. Please spare me.

We get more of a full backstory about Kwan and his amnesiac former fiance. I guess he cheated on her right before she got into the car accident. It's so... soap opera-esque? I guess I wish there could have been a more nuanced reason for them to get into a fight. Something that's not as clear-cut. Kwan having complex feelings of loss and guilt about this woman makes sense, but I was hoping for a bit more complexity, I suppose.

Richard snapping at Teddy and scolding her and holding the chief job over her head... like I said, you know I have to be pissed off about a story-line for me to be in Teddy's corner. But come on, Richard, what the hell? In general, not a strong episode for Webber. I was irritated with him on multiple different levels.

This is just a general note about a thing I hope I get to see, but I was excited to see Amelia and Monica working together again, and then a little dismayed that there weren't really any hints about furthering the potential romance vibes there. Don't let me down, Grey's, I wanna see it!

Pros:

So... holy shit. The Schmitt story-line with the sick kid obsessed with death... I fucking cried real tears, y'all. That moment where he's talking about the dilation of time, and making a list with the kid about what he wants to do before he dies? The kid crying and saying "I don't want to die"... it was such a punch to the gut. And the vibes with the pastor dude seemed like maybe they were leading somewhere? I really liked the switch, where the kid was obsessed with mortality and seemed to be processing it relatively well given the reality of his situation, and yet the second it's confirmed that he'll be dead soon, it's really tough for him to hear. And then Levi breaking down afterward from the intensity of that experience... I really felt for him, and I'm really going to miss him when he leaves the show!

Yasuda and Jules making out in the elevator was great, such a classic moment in the Grey's canon, to have people stealing kisses in elevators! And then the elevator opening with Amelia right outside... lol. I hope the vibes here continue to be fun, and Yasuda's exit isn't too horrifyingly tragic.

While Richard and Lucas are both getting on my nerves of late, I did like that little throw-away moment where Sydney called Lucas out for his privilege, of getting to go golfing with important doctors like Richard and Winston. He has the realization that he doesn't want to pull favors and rely on his family name to get past the mess he's in. He'll re-do his intern year and he'll take his lumps. I do like that in theory, although I'd rather just not have to deal with Lucas at all.

I just gotta say, Meredith is kind of a saint. I love her no-nonsense attitude with Catherine, the way she sets the personal stuff aside to assess her health and honor her stupid wish to not tell Richard what's going on. Getting Bailey involved might be kind of bonkers from an ethical perspective, but Meredith needed a consult, and needed backup with Catherine. Setting aside my specific frustrations with Catherine, I really admired Meredith's attitude in this situation.

Another element I liked in a plot thread I didn't much care for: I really do think Kwan has good chemistry with almost any scene partner you put him with. I kind of root for him with every romance that's been hinted. Honestly at this point, my dream scenario is for Lucas to go the hell away, pair Kwan and Simone, and then let Jules and Mika keep happening too. I know that's not what's to be, but Kwan is good at doing the earnest yearning thing. He grows on me more and more.

So. As we wade further into this season, there are a lot of characters who are annoying me, there are a lot of plot elements that feel repetitive and frustrating. But, at the same time, I have a lot of loyalty and affection for a lot of these people, and I'm down to keep following their stories!

7/10

[noveloctoling]

Introducing a bunch of people I know!!

INSTEAD of going on a angry rant about the feedback I got on my response to the upcoming invasion, I decided that it was a good time to introduce a couple of fellows who I will be mentioning in a good couple of posts! Let's get into it :3 (btw my phone camera is broken so I actually sat down and drew everybody I want to talk about lol)

First off, this is Shallow (She/Her)! She's my adoptive mom (no literally it's legal, no wonder she made my legal name so long, i adore it though), and one of the kindest people I know. She was formerly part of the Salmonid army before leaving (reasons she hasn't told me yet) to explore the world. She wound up in the streets of Splatsville, meeting me. We've been best buddies since, and I look up to her as a mother more than everything. As mentioned, she is the sweetest thing, never leaving anybody behind and always trying to make everybody feel safe. She does have an attitude and underlying anger issues, but she is aware of it and is working to fix her flaws. She is also extremely hard working, and works multiple jobs that she switches between. Services for the elderly, cleaning jobs, babysitting, she does anything to help others. I wonder how she gets the motivation to do so much work and not burn out and snap at people who disrespect her for being a Salmonid. She also works with me to fight for the rights of her people. As a fact, it's because of her and her wife, Haggy, who have put me on this trail. It's all for them, and I don't want to let them down. (this drawing was done while I watched her down three bowls of udon before she noticed i was there, drawing her. We had a good laugh. Can I also mention that she loves food, and is one of the best cooks ever?)

Speaking of, this is Haggy (Any/All)! Yeah, I told her I was drawing her and she made that face (she's not aware she was making it). She's my other adoptive parent, and is married to Shallow (legally because somehow Splatsville legal teams don't care if you're a Salmonid or not, they're going to do their jobs. Shoutout to Splatsville legal teams). She runs The Hooded Fisherman, a hat shop down on the pier of Anarchy Bay. Me and Shallow actually helped her get the shop running, which is how they met each other (Haggy was a mess around Shallow because of how much she liked her. They fell in love quickly. They've been married for a year now). Haggy's also very sweet, and she would never hurt a fly (if she does bump into you, she'll apologize at most 10 times). She's quite cautious and a bit airheaded. Sort of a wimp when it comes to conflict, but she has many people backing her up. She was formerly going to be part of the Salmonid army, training to be a Horrorboros, but her training was cut in half when she was caught by a fishing ship and when blind due to the crew 'joking around' and grilling her eyes out (forgot to mention that she's blind). Her dreams were shattered, and because of her embarrassment, she would exile herself. Like Shallow, she wound up in Anarchy Bay, and found some friends who would support her (other store owners down in Anarchy Bay!). She loves to craft hats, so she decided to make that into a business. Story goes on, she meets us, falls in love with Shallow, gets married and adopts me, and then nearly gets murdered by Coral multiple times.

Speaking of the devil (he's nicknamed 'The Red Devil'), I happen to make a perfect transition to talk about my arch nemesis, Coral. This bastard works for Grizzco Industries, one of their best employees (yet still never gets his name on the grizzco employee wall of fame, what a waste) due to his determination and recklessness when it comes to killing salmonids and kidnapping their children- wait no, he's really only there for the killing part. Some of you Grizzco employees might have seen him around. He's the guy with the lazy eye, coral colored tentacles, and a violent personality that he uses to stand off against the Salmonids (did i mention that I hate this guy?). According to my partner, Coral used to be a good guy, just a jock who somehow ended up at Inkblot Art Academy. After a year of attending, he would drop out and move to Splatsville to engage in the Turf War scene there. Inkblot then is invaded by the Salmonids, and my partner, Lee, is injured (which I will talk about in a bit just wait a second). Coral was Lee's best friend, so he was heartbroken. Ignoring Lee's wishes to just let it go, Coral would decide to enact vengeance upon the Salmonid race by killing as many of them as he possibly can. I now have to mention that he's tried to murder Haggy on multiple occasions, just because he really hates a horrorboros that much (it was a horrorboros that Lee got most of their scars from). That puts him against me, and it just fuels my hatred for Grizzco Industries as a whole. He's sick in the head. I'm begging any Grizzco employees to please mention it to higher ups that he's been trying to murder people outside of the job. Get this fish fired please.

Okay, NOW I can talk about my Queer Platonic Partner, Lee (They/Them). Lee lives out in Salmonid waters with their goldie friend who we all just call 'The Specter' (It/Its). It is because of Specter and whatever strange abilities it has that Lee is able to survive in such a climate as an Inkling. They're very creative and imaginative, always having something to ramble about, weather that be an original story or an art idea. They are a extremely hard worker, and never gives up. They've grown a little more rough and defensive to Inkfish after the Inkblot Big Run, but they've adjusted very well. As stated before, they used to attend Inkblot Art Academy with Coral before the Big Run, where they were left outside and was injured in the protest. They lost a bit of memory, the most major thing was their memory of language, making them struggle with speaking Inklish (but they did learn Salmonese very quickly!). Before the Big Run, Lee felt trapped in Inkling society in Inkopolis. Their parents weren't accepting of their Non-Binary identity, and they were pushed to Inkblot because their parents wanted to make their art skills the only thing they could be useful with. After the attack, they found a new world that opened up to them. They would move out after becoming best buddies with The Specter, who had taught them how to readjust after the experience. Now, they're one of my best buddies too. They're very helpful in helping me (and in turn, the public) learn about the joys of Salmonid life, and that they're not just instinct driven animals. Their just so sweet, and we've grown very close, now queer platonic partners. As for The Specter, I don't know much about it besides it being quite chill around everybody, and is surprisingly fluent in every language ever? Apparently Lee says that it's spent a lot of time by itself, and that allowed it to learn and speak as many languages as it could find. Some weird magnetic powers too. Coral is very confused at the difference between Lee and Specter (also send him to therapy too do that).

Now to finish this off, I want to talk about a couple of other friends I got!

Starting off, I'm quite close with Sterling (They/He) from the up and coming experimental band, the 'Wavebreakers'! It's a two man band, combining as many styles of music in a chaotic beat. I love their music, and I've had good run-ins with Sterling and their bandmate, Zerkylie (They/She). Apparently me and Sterling go way back to the Octarian domes, where we met when we were traveling up to the surface together (he knew my bio mom?? that's nice). Sterling used to be a Grizzco employee, but he got abandoned on a trip which is how he met Zerkylie. Zerkylie is a scaredy salmon and fears death, which was why Sterling pulled them out of the army when they got left behind. They got out and decided to move to Splatsville to start their band with their shared love of music. Sterling plays many wind instruments, and Zerkylie does digital mixing. They could totally be TV idols if they wanted, but Zerkylie is a introvert, and would (i kid you not, Zerkylie said it themself) eat the camera that's recording them.

Next up is Coral's buddies who I somehow managed to befriend! They're known as the 'Humboldt Unit', and they do a lot of runs together. First up is Lysa (She/He), the muscle of the team. Joined the team first after the Undertow Spillway Big Run (she did lose a leg during it, but she didn't hold it against the Salmonids, + 100 respect). She's so sweet, and is really only doing the job because she owes Coral her life. Next is Doug (He/Him), the nerd. I love this little dude. He joined in during Um'Ami Ruins, where his terrible luck got him run over by a Scrapper, and chased around by double King Salmonids before being pulled out by Coral and Lysa. Surprisingly, the only reason he does runs is because he wants to learn Salmonid history up close. This guy is a history nerd, and will go as far as to break into places he's not supposed to be just to learn more. He broke into a weird bunker in the Crater and learned a lot of human history down there. He's just as weird as me, and that is why I love this guy. Finally, there's Cindy (She/Her), the girl who has no idea what's going on. She lives in Eeltail Alley (which got invaded btw), and she joined the team just because it felt like the thing to do at the moment. She's a up and coming fashion designer, and is quite friendly to everybody (she loves to work with Shallow when it comes to fashion). She's had some run ins with the Specter, and believes she's going a little crazy. She actually loves Salmonids, and really wants to become close friends with one. Quite surprising how Coral's best buddies aren't as mad about killing Salmonids as he is, huh?

That should be it for me. I'm tired having to write this (holy shit i think i've been writing this for a hour straight jeez). Feel free to ask any questions about anybody I've mentioned!

[chanluster]

the duke and i | m ; f

“The Duke of Hastings can show you much more than what you write of.”

oneshot | bridgerton! au | f2l! au | 32.3k words

s u m m a r y >> wishing to be a successful writer in the regency period seemed next to impossible for the sole daughter of a dead earl. with arising pressures from your mother to tie the knot, you turn to your dearest friend, hwang hyunjin, duke of hastings and the most eligible, scandalous bachelor of the season, for assistance. when he suggests the insane of idea of marrying each other to help each other, you agree to the proposal, unaware of how much the duke can teach you of the wonders of matrimony.

w a r n i n g s >> noble! reader, duke! hyunjin, hyunjin is a fucking rake, reader is a fucking nerd, also really really innocent, hyunjin is sosososo hot, a lot of teasing, foul language too, endearments, sexual tension, kissing, making out, corruption kink!!!!! corruption! fucking! kink! oral (f. receiving) fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe hoemies!!) orgasming on multiple occasions, there is fluff i promise, yes there is angst, also seungmin cameo of him being a drunk fool, and slight references to regency poets and writers here and there

p l a y l i s t >> here!

t a g l i s t >> @fivefootfuryanon @h0eforhyunjin16 @seoulicitae @linoscult @aliceu @hwangi @shipsaremything98 @babyyynatty @kabira @danyxthirstae01 @sunseokkies @lunefilm @severetimetravelnerd @minaamhh @starry--koo @ninjaleeknow @hyunjeonnies @inlovewithasa @titleisyettobemade​ @maedesculpaeusoubi @fleeingreality @healinghyunjin​​

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e >> help i am back from the dead to finally give you bridgerton! hyunjin!! big apologies for taking so long, and i hope you enjoy this whopper :’) thank you for the constant support, and hope you won’t miss me too much while i’m gone ;)

back to masterlist

YOU TURNED THE PAGE OF YOUR BOOK AS YOUR MOTHER REPEATED THE RULES FOR THE TWENTIETH TIME THAT EVENING.

“And remember,” she droned on, voice barely audible from the din of the carriage ricketing across the cobblestone. “You must dance with as many dukes you can get your hands on. Especially those worth over 10,000 a year!”

“As you say, Mama,” you got out, not particularly focusing on her orders, but the characters in your novel, bickering sweetly with each other. You smiled at the heated conversation, marvelling at how the two people did not realise their undying love for each other.

Unfortunately, your mother caught the slight happiness on your face, and simply had to stample it. “Are you even listening to me, child?”

You hummed out a cryptic answer, but that was not enough. “Stop reading that rubbish, ____!” she ordered, trying to seize it from your hands, but you were too quick, keeping it out of her range. “You have a bigger issue at hand here!”

“Leave me be,” you murmured, hugging the novel to your chest, unable to feel its leather due to your long gloves enveloping your fingers.  

Of course you knew of the ‘bigger issue’ she would not ever stop speaking of. It was another matter entirely that you did not care for it.

“____, listen to me.”

Groaning, you directed your gaze towards your mother, who looked regal in a light golden gown, shawl enveloping her shoulders. “I know you would much rather have your nose stuck in those silly little novels of yours all day, God knows why.” She brought a hand out, planting it on the silk of your lap. “But that may have been excusable before.”

You understood where she was going with this conversation.

Your father is dead now. 

Pursing your lips, you looked out to the tiny window, exposing the other carriages closing up to the huge pathway of the Buckingham estate. The clattering of horseshoes upon the gravel entered your ears, but still could not blank out the information that lingered.

There is no hope for single women in search of a career. Especially if they have no fathers or brothers.

As your own vehicle came to a rest, behind the dozens of others, you held onto your book, a footman opening the door and holding his hand out to your mother. She taking it, you followed suit, dusting away at the dress and tilting your head upwards at the destination.

The Duke of Buckinghamshire could rival the queen herself with his estate — the faded, grey-red brick was alight, orchestral music tuning outside and seducing the guests to enter. Hundreds of windows plastered on the towering walls gave a glimpse of the chaos residing inside, a few couples leaning a little too close behind fans on the sill and men screaming over card game losses. A flourish of men and women adorned in their finest attire rushed to the entrance, the gigantic double doors of the manor welcomed every guest, and you stayed close with your mother as the two of you made your way up the steps, and into the estate.

The interior was even more marvellous — golden chandeliers dangled from the vast, painted ceiling, like glittering diamonds as it shed light on the hallway, servants ready to take any apparel and lead the way to the ballroom. Marble floors glistened as your eyes skimmed over the crowd, looking for a specific person among the riches.

Your mother, finding the host of this ball, patted your shoulder as she began to hurry into the main hall. “Come, my child,” she said as she tugged you along, “I shall reacquaint you with Her Grace.”

Before you could object, the woman rushed into the ballroom, the music louder as the orchestra resided right at the end of the hall, playing its sultry tune to the dancers emerging in the centre. You wished to study the place further, but were turned to face a large duchess of overwhelming dress, red skirts flowing and feathers of the same colour jutting out from her updo. 

“Ah, Lady ____!” the Duchess of Buckingham greeted with a shark’s smile. “Lovely to see you back in society. So soon, might I add.”

You had a right mind to say that it was against your wishes, but your mother chipped in, “You know how it is, Your Grace. When one has an unmarried daughter one can only stay in society until that is undone.”

“Rightly so.” the Duchess brought her fan to her chin, studying you thoroughly. “My sweet, you are a pretty girl.” Her eyes landed on the book you held. “But bringing a novel into a ballroom? Do you not wish to socialise at all?”  

“Perhaps not tonight,” you said with as much disappointment as you could muster. “The Dashwood sisters will entertain me well enough.”

The Duchess could not respond as you bowed lightly and left your mother’s side, rushing past the other men and women of titles before they could converse with you. Your eyes skimmed the crowd, in search of a particular man, but the amount of guests made it incredibly difficult. 

The dancing continued on, laughter ringing throughout the hall as you secluded yourself in a corner, next to the refreshments. The wondrous scent of cakes, pastries and other deserts seduced your senses, but you restrained your temptations as you sat upon an ornate chair placed beside the tables of food. 

An unfamiliar lord, as if waiting for you to be at peace, walked over to your side, and you had to contain your disdain as you instantly deduced the motivations behind his coming over.

Reaching out his gloved hand to you, he asked the most irritable question. 

“May I have the first dance with you, my lady?”

Brilliant. You looked up at him, plastering a tight smile upon your face. “I deeply apologise, sir,” you began, opening your book. “I am afraid my firsts are promised to another.”

Confused, he tried again. “How about the next dance, then?”

Why was he being so persistent? “I shall see,” you replied, not outright rejecting him, but hoping that he understood the implications behind your lack of acceptance.

Beyond puzzled, he hesitantly dipped his head in adieu, wondering at his rejection as he thankfully left you alone.

It was not like you were lying to him — your firsts for everything had been promised to another man. You were just fortunate enough to use that to your advantage.

Glancing over the crowd one last time in search of that particular man, you dove into the novel, hoping he stayed lost in the crowd for the night.

A sad smile exposed itself on your face.

The thought of Jane Austen gaining little acclaim for the writings in your hands crushed you. Maybe that contributed to her publishing anonymously, but still — everyone knew she was the lady behind your favourite works. 

In general, there was simply no other form of joy for you other than reading the works of women. The soul of your gender had only ever been captured by the writings created by ladies of your age and mentality. It almost felt like you possessed a personal connection with them when you read these novels; It felt like that Austen understood you on an emotional level, a degree not many people could comprehend.

You dearly wished you could write such flawless books yourself.

A slight frown enveloped your lips.

As if your mother would let you. Or any man she marries you off to.

Progressing further into the novel, you became so engrossed that you did not notice another man walking to where you were isolated, the soft leather boots near silent on the marble floor. You wished you had perked up at his presence, but you did not realise him there until he got hold of your book.

And snatched it right out of your hands.

A gasp escaped you, features twisting into anger as your eyes followed the origins of such fingers, closing your novel with a snap!

“Of course I see you engrossed in a book rather than in another man’s arms.”

The roll of your eyes was inevitable.

Because before you was the Duke of Hastings, smiling like a pirate finding long-lost treasure.

Your answering grin was more a flash of teeth. “No man is ever as interesting as a good book.”

Clicking his tongue, he plucked a flute of champagne from the table next to you. In truth, Hwang Hyunjin, unfortunately, was one of the most fascinating men you had ever encountered. The greatest giveaway was his appearance — the lean, delicate figure, elevated by his gorgeous features. His eyes, the colour of bitter coffee, shone with mischief as the glass settled on his plush lips, tilting his head back so his lustrous golden curls fell from his shoulders. 

His hair alone sent a shockwave through the city. The gentlemen in society spent their time in the barbers’ salons after his new appearance at Lord Lee’s spring ball, and although they aspired, they simply could not compete. 

Your best friend was a sacred image no being could ever attempt to replicate.

Releasing a dreamy sigh, he propped the empty flute back on the table, dusting away at his cream-coloured tailcoat. The trousers of the same colour hugged his legs perfectly, tightening at his thighs. “Now, ____,” he began, holding out his free hand before you. “It is time for a human being to entertain you.”

You raised your chin in challenge. “And what if I were to say no?”

The scoff that escaped his lips dared you to try. 

“You cannot escape me, angel. Alas, you have promised your firsts to me.”

Grimacing at the truth, you eyed the object he had seized from you, crossing your arms. “What about my novel?” you asked. “I cannot let you discard it in any old place.”

“How about this?” He took a step closer to you. “I will keep hold of it as we dance.”

“And how will you do that, blondie?”

The man narrowed his gaze at the term — a nickname you had established the moment he had revealed his golden locks to you, to his utter dismay. “Well, darling,” he mused, the hand hovering closer, “You are going to have to accept me first.”

First. Always him as your first.

Of course, you were never the one to refuse the Rake of London.

So, making sure you exaggerated as much disdain as you could, you grabbed onto his hand, feeling the determined tug of his hold as he led you to the dance floor. Finding a fairly empty spot among the dozens of other couples, he fully interlocked your fingers with his, snaking the book-held hand around your waist. Feeling the hard leather on your back, you let out a hum of approval as you propped your free hand on his shoulder.

“If you dare drop the book, Hyunjin,” you warned, digging your gloves further into the fabric. “I will tread on your boots.”

His answer was patting your prized possession behind your book. “You worry as if you don’t tread on them anyway.”

As the orchestra began, so did his feet, commencing the dance. 

You saw his eyes wander, pausing at a particular image which made him smirk knowingly at you. “I think you should be worrying more about your mother.”

Fearful, you followed his line of sight. There she was, talking to the other countesses with smiles and frivolous laughter as she pointed to your general direction. Their sons pursued her finger, and as they caught sight of you, you gulped. A small chuckle huffed out of your partner. “I think I might see you engaged at the end of the evening.”

“Do not even utter such words!” you exclaimed. “I will either die a successful writer or die a spinster.”

“You do know you can be an author while you are married,” Hyunjin pointed out, turning you about the room. 

Shaking your head at his statement, you countered, “That could not be further from the truth! Do you remember Lady Andrews?” An absent-minded shrug was his answer. “Well, she lives up north now, but she once confided to me that she wished to be a painter. Guess what happened to her?”

“I assume this is the part where you attack marriage.”

“Yes! Because her life was ruined after she was wedded to some wretched old viscount!” You shuddered depicting the details. “In the last letters she wrote to me, she spoke of her easels and paints being taken away from her. God, it enraged me when she begged the heavens for any kind of assistance to be rid of the man, but after she became with child, there was no escape.”

Sensing your fingers clenching onto him tighter, the duke instinctively patted the small of your back with your book. “I cannot risk such chains, Hyunjin,” you guttered. “I may not have much freedom now, but it is still better than none.”

Allowing yourself to be twirled by your friend, he brought you back into his arms. His silence, although heavy, was temporary, as his eyes settled on you. “Not every man wants to imprison their wife, ____.”

You did not bother remarking on the statement. “What about your own marital status?” you asked, changing the subject slightly. “Have you not found yourself a nice girl from the many you speak to?”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Speak to,” he parroted softly, as if in disbelief. “The ladies that I...merely speak to...their families are a nightmare.” The repetition confused you, but you persisted until he pressed his lips in an unamused line. “I just...do not want to marry these women. I do not feel any sort of affection for them.”

After a moment of quiet, you let out a huff of laughter. “Look at us, blondie.” You gestured to the crowds around the two of you, the chaos of it all. “Both of us are plagued by pressures of matrimony.” 

The music began its path to the crescendo, instruments sounding louder with every second your feet moved in tune to your friend’s. “It seems the value our freedoms too much to sacrifice it forever.”

He did not respond, eyes lost beyond you and the entire ball. His fingers upon yours tightened slightly, feeling the drum of his hands reverberating upon the book latched on your back. You cocked your head slightly, studying his faraway expression, wondering what matter had gained his interest so deeply. It was not an easy feat to gain Hyunjin’s attention.

As the violins sang out higher, the man’s grip on you loosened, almost as he became transported in his mind, losing all grasp on the reality he shared with you. Only when you smacked him lightly on the shoulder did he blink back, staring at you with mild irritation. “Hello?” you said, waving your gloved hand over his face. “Earth to Hyunjin?”

“Ah, um...sorry, angel,” he muttered, looking away as he picked up the pace of the dance once more. “I was just thinking.”

“Of what?” you asked, and when you caught the hesitancy in his gaze you groaned at him. “Oh, do not tell me you are thinking of some poor lady once again!”

“No!” he began, but then he frowned, shaking his head. “Well, yes, I...I suppose I was thinking of a certain lady.”

You grinned. “God help her, then.”

There was another moment of quiet among the buzz of the ball when he spoke again. “____.”

Your stare remained on his face. “Yes?”

As you kept watching him, you witnessed a slight blush arise on his cheeks. “So, um...as you said, correctly, that we both highly value our freedom…”

Not quite understanding, you drawed, “Yes?”

“And of course, you know how we are the best of friends,” he carried on, eyes boring into you, as if you were some child who needed extra explanation. “You know, how everything I would ask of you would be in our best interests.”

A raised brow was your response to his rambling. “Hyunjin…what is the matter?”

He stopped, realising he could not meander any further. Sharp sigh escaping, he proposed a plan which had been haunting his mind since the dance. 

“I think you should marry me, angel.”

The words caused you to still completely. Not a very wise decision, considering the dance was still in motion, resulting in Hyunjin stumbling forward into you. His tugging hands had you continuing, albeit with much more shock. 

“What…” your insides threatened to retch out of your mouth. “What did you just say?”

“No, no, listen to me for a moment!” He clamped his lips together, searching for the right words to argue his point with. “Now I know marriage is something you have disliked—”

“Dislike?” A scoff. “I think you mean absolutely detest!” You saw him almost flinch at your snarl. “How dare you even suggest such a thing to me?!”

“I know, damn it!” he exclaimed, discomfort clear in his voice. “But if you would hear me out!”

“And what is this plan you speak of, Hyunjin?” you seethed, suddenly tempted to ram your heeled slipper into his boot. 

The man looked much in need of escape from this situation, but he merely twirled you about once more, the climax of the music about to begin. “I am very aware of your hatred against matrimony, and believe me when I say that I share in your disdain. Have I not complained of the very ceremony when mothers from every corner of London came to insist for their daughters’ hands?

Grumbling, you nodded. “Exactly, so obviously I must have a good reason why I spoke of this matter.”

“Well, spit it out, then!” you snapped. “It already sounds outrageous.”

With the instruments chanting louder, he commenced. “We both have a dilemma with marriage, especially concerning the burden. Your biggest problem is the freedom being taken from you. Mine is having to live with a woman I have no feelings towards.”

He continued, feet moving quicker and quicker to the melody of the music. “But see, if we wed each other, then those problems would be solved instantly!”

You looked at him as if he was insane. “You do realise that I would still be married. My scrap of independence would be snatched from me anyway.”

“That would be true if you were marrying some silly old lord, who had no interest in you other than your titles.”

His hand on your back pulled you a little closer. “But you see, angel, you would be marrying me.” 

Around and around, the two of you whirled, never stopping for a second to the music. “And you have known me long enough to know that I would never stop you from pursuing your passions.” 

Higher the melody climbed, lost to your ears as your eyes widened. 

His words rang through you with every note that escaped the instruments, sailing through the crescendo that washed over the ball. “You...you would let me write?”

Hyunjin furrowed your brows. “Did you think any different?” he asked, quite offended by your surprise. “Did you really expect that kind of behaviour from me?”

You did not hide your fears. “You may be my dearest friend, but you are still a man.”

That had him twisting his mouth into a scowl. His hands on you clenched harder. “You know me better than that, darling.”

You did, in fairness. The Duke of Hastings, leading you along this dramatic waltz, had been a constant in the entirety of your life. It was in these very balls that he had happened to stumble upon you, a child barely touching your second decade with a children’s book buried in your face. He, the exact same age but with much more excitement, snatched that book from your hands and made you leave your seat, chasing the boy around the ballroom till you burst into tears. After that rather unfortunate event, you vowed never to be in the same room as him, but you somehow ended up being his best friend instead.

Maybe it was because both of you had overbearing parents, driven by pressures of society and personal expectations. Or maybe it was the simple notion that after a while, you began to enjoy his eccentric behaviour and rather addictive smiles.

Perhaps it was better that way, too. For you could not imagine life without Hwang Hyunjin.

Your gaze was apologetic. “I do, blondie,” you supposed, but you steeled yourself once more. “But I have a condition!”

“And what condition would that be?” he asked, swirling you around and around, waiting for the climax to strike any second. The ladies around you were breathless, ecstatic, the gentlemen smug, but you and the duke had only business in your minds.

“Promise me that we remain the same,” you said, never leaving his sight when the music boomed across the ballroom, raw melodies dancing along with everyone within the four golden walls. His grip on you was firm, unflinching as he spun you across the marble floor one last time, dark boots never missing a single note as he nearly swept you away from the chaos of society. “Promise me that you and I will not change.”

And as the music drifted to an end, he finally slowed down. There was a moment of silence, heavier still under his stare. 

“I cannot promise you that.”

His next words sent the strangest sensation down your spine. 

“For we would not be friends anymore. We would be husband and wife.” 

The ballroom erupted into applause.

You blinked back at the new noise, head darting at the couples beginning to clap at the ended dance. Although the others began to depart, the two of you lingered on the floor, hands still clasped. 

His stare never faltered. “I cannot promise you that,” he repeated, slowly shaking his head. “Nor can I guarantee you continuity. 

“What I can promise, though, is that I will not take away your freedom. You may write as much as you wish.”

It was then his hold on you eased, stepping away as he held out the book — never dropped from his hand, but firm as he brought it before you, a silent offer.

“What do you say, angel?” His gaze was impenetrable. “Will you be my wife?”

Among the lords and ladies, there was only you and him.

You and him against the world.

It was difficult, finding allies in a time you lived in. Reminded of your mother, you had a terrible feeling that only doom would fall upon you if you refused his help. 

With good reason, too. No man could match what Hyunjin offered. No man would ever let you pursue your literary passions. 

Not a singular male in this society would ever care for your basic freedom, other than he.

Another first, then. 

So, in the middle of the ballroom, with your mother watching, you held onto the book, gripping it with a firm promise.

You dared not depart from the Duke of Hastings’ stare.

“Yes, blondie.”

You exposed a smile, a mocking quirk in your brow.

“A thousand times yes.”

THE WEDDING HAPPENED QUITE IMMEDIATELY AFTER THAT NIGHT.

You insisted the wedding be small and intimate, for the ceremonies were already boring enough, but both your mother and Hyunjin insisted it be a grand occasion. 

The two of you tied the knot at Fulham Palace, a most esteemed estate dating back centuries, adorned in the finest flowers and gifts of nature surrounding its red-bricked walls. You had been there often in your childhood, due to the place being situated at the heart of your friend’s lands outside of the city, but seeing it decorated for your own wedding elevated the speciality of this abbey.

Many of London’s lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses had rushed to your invitation, fawning over the festivities and seated impatiently on the uncomfortable seating to await your arrival. Your friends, some bridesmaids, prepared your hair and fixed your dress, ordering everyone to take their places and sounding the instruments behind the altar to begin playing.

In truth, the ceremony was a blur.

Because this whole occasion was merely a plan, you did not deign to remember the memorable details of each event, the people who came or even the words recited by the priest.

However, the one figure you could not forget was your best friend.

No, you could not forget his face as you walked up to him slowly. It was a sight you had seen him expose only a few times in his life, when he would observe a flower open its petals in the morning, or regard a particular enchanting piece of artwork in an exhibition, which he would refuse to walk away from. You had raised a quizzical brow at him then as you slid the ring upon his finger, but he only offered you a wink, expression fading when the priest addressed you both.

Of course, another little detail you distinctly remembered was the declaration. The words which sealed a woman’s imprisonment.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Your gaze had darted to Hyunjin at that, finding him staring at you already. Meeting his gaze, you found the comfort you hoped you would receive.

The Duke of Hastings will not throw you into the cages of matrimony. 

This very thought had relieved your nerves as you thanked every guest who congratulated you on the wedding, a few friends wiggling their eyebrows and wishing luck for the honeymoon. You waved them off, not really understanding the connotations, but carried on struggling at the reception until the sun had descended, and it was time for everyone to return home. 

That very evening, the two of you set off for this particular honeymoon.

You bid your farewells to your mother, she much too emotional for your liking, and because Hyunjin had no parents to bid his farewells to, the wedding carriage was up and running before the moon had taken reins of the night sky. 

Conversation never ran dry as you journeyed out of the din of London and into the countryside. Your destination was a couple of hours away, so rest was mostly out of the question as the carriage sped on, eager to get the newlyweds to their new home. 

It was well into the night when you arrived at Hemingford Manor, one of the many estates Hyunjin had ownership of ever since his father’s passing. Engulfed within the lush nature of Cambridgeshire, the little estate exuded a comfortable sort of radiance which you would expect from warm fires of winter. The gardens surrounding its walls was a whole maze of trees, bushes and an assortment of flowers, heightening its already ancient regality. 

The arrangements were made immediately, a small household welcoming you at the door as they took your luggage, unpacking everything as Hyunjin showed you around. It was extremely intimate, you noticed, every feature of any room possessing an unusual air well before your time, almost telling a story of theirs from centuries ago. 

He brought you to the bedroom, the grand bed instantly in sight as it’s curtains were fully drawn around its wooden columns, bedsheets black and red with gold thread stitched in swirls at the hems. Two ornate chairs sat beside the windows, and a huge dresser sat opposite the bed, beside it the door to the en-suite bathroom. Oil paintings littered the red walls of his ancestors, noticing your friend’s portrait made in his youth. The entire room radiated warmth, and you found yourself easing completely in his den.

“Well, I guess I should prepare for sleep,” you began, shrugging off your coat, walking over to the chairs and  settling it upon one of the arms. 

Hyunjin blinked back, as if his thoughts had been interrupted. “Ah, yes, of course.” He gestured to the bed. “You can have this room. I can stay in the one next door.”

You looked at him as if he was insane. “Do a husband and wife not share the same bedroom?”

“Well—” the man put his hands on his hips. “Yes, but I do not want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” You stepped towards him, quite offended. “Have you forgotten when we would sleep in the same bed whenever I stayed at yours for the summer?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “We were children then, sweetheart. The situation is quite different now.”

“No, it is not,” you countered, matching his stance. “You were my dearest friend before, and you are my dearest friend now. That will always stay the same.”

That certainly quietened his tongue. He studied the stubborn quirk of your lips before sighing, unbuttoning his waistcoat. “Fine,” he quipped. “But I will not hesitate to throw you off the bed if you hog the sheets!”

You only offered him a scoff in response.

As the both of you began to ready yourself for bed, you opened your bag, making sure your papers were still intact. Counting up your drafts, you hummed in satisfaction before tying up the bag once again, setting it beside the dresser. Now, in your white nightgown, you went to the grand bed, slipping into the sheets. 

Grabbing hold of Pride and Prejudice, you continued reading from where you left off as you waited for Hyunjin to be suitably dressed for slumber. You hoped he would take longer than usual, but he disappointed you, as the fool always does, by arriving much earlier, frilled-collared shirt all loose and trousers all slack. 

The minute he saw you reading, he let out a groan. Leaning over, he snatched the book right out of your hands. “Hey!” You exclaimed, trying to take it back, but he stretched his hand away from you, propping it not-so-gently upon his bedside table. “Oh my God, not that harshly, you oaf! The book could tear!”

“I do not care!” He jeered, sliding into the sheets, propping his elbow so his hand supported his head. He swiped his locks away from his face, showing his full irritation. “Having your nose in a book on our wedding night!”

“Mr. Darcy was entertaining me just fine,” you sniped, crossing your arms. “You just had to be a Wickham and ruin the whole experience.”

“If this Wickham is a gift from the Lord Himself, then damn do I accept his name with pride!”

His ignorance made you laugh. Sliding your eyes to him, you matched his position, snuggling further into the pillows. “What does one even do on the wedding night anyway?”

Hyunjin’s amusement faltered at this, plush mouth parting ever so slightly. 

The Duke knew exactly what one does on the wedding night. 

As he raked his gaze over you, you waiting patiently for his answer, he wondered whether he should answer you truthfully. Tell you that he should be towering over you, kiss those pretty lips until they’re swollen and spit-slick, and take off that nightgown and uncover you before the stars. It was only customary, but the thought had his insides churning.

So he decided completely against it, to his absolute disappointment.

“How would I know? It is my first marriage as well.”

“Yes, but you’re aware of the ladies, and the gossip.” You leaned closer to him, unaware that the man’s heart halted for a second at the mere action. “When the guests were wishing me luck on my honeymoon they kept chuckling like children, as if they were in on a secret I was excluded from.”

“To hell with the guests, angel.” Hyunjin patted on your pillows, urging you to put your head down. “Our joining was very different from theirs. We can make our own rules.”

“Finally, an intelligent word from you!” You declared, but yelped as he pressed his hand on your head, sending you to the cushions. “Too harsh!”

“As I said, own rules,” he reminded you, a smile curling his lips. “Now please sleep! It is well past midnight.”

You shook your head no, resting your head in your arms. “Come on, Hyunjin! We have the whole night to ourselves, and you wish to sleep?”

Yes, he very much did. Because if he kept looking at you, excited and giggly and adorable, the tight leash he kept on himself would snap. 

He could not have his hands on you on the very first night. Not when you had no knowledge of what that meant.

“Well then,” he started, using all the strength in him to not curl a stray lock around your ear. “Tell me of your writings.”

His request had you face burning. “Never.”

The man made a face. “What?” He demanded, nudging you with his fingers. “Now you must tell me!”

“No, not now,” you hurried off, hiding your face in the pillows. God, the thought of your friend reading anything of yours made you sick to the stomach. “Argh!”

“But why?” he asked, a beginning of a pout etching onto his lips. “Do you not trust me, even though I have tolerated you for all these years?”

You turned to him again, furrowing your brows. “I do trust you!” You reassured him. “And I will tell you at the right time. Just...not at this moment.”

When you saw a frown develop on his face, you pouted at him, shame coursing through your bones. “To tell you the truth, Hyunjin, I am just embarrassed. It is so rough at the moment, so I want to show you the very best.”

“But I want to see everything,” he muttered. “Your worst and your best.”

“And you will see it!” You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his slender hand. The boy gaped at you at the sudden contact, but you continued. “You will be the first to see my drafts. I give you my word.”

The honest consolation brought the duke to a stillness. Hand enveloped by your fingers, he watched you await his reaction. 

Being the first to see your private writings was truly an asset. A special secret he would never share to another. 

“I wait patiently for that time, then,” he said, offering you a smile which melted your heart. “Now, I beg, sleep!” he added, bringing the sheets up to your chin. “I can tell you’re exhausted.”

Knowing your whining would be of no use, you looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Fine, you absolute bother.” You closed your eyes. “Goodnight, blondie.”

A small chuckle escaped him, never forgetting the hold you had over his hand. He regarded over your resting figure, curling ever so slightly next to him, and he just could not help himself.

Stretching out his other hand, his fingers tucked away your stray locks from your face, curling them behind your ear. The smile ghosted on his lips, and only then he sank further into the pillows.

“Goodnight, angel.”

 MARITAL LIFE WAS NOT AS TERRIBLE AS YOU IMAGINED IT TO BE.

A couple of weeks had passed as this ‘honeymoon’ period progressed in Hemingford, and you were beginning to settle in quite nicely to the peaceful time. The birds never ceased to chirp joyfully around the manor, the nature which engulfed the two of you like another living being surrounding you, silent yet welcoming. 

The scenery was perfect for someone like you, who was waiting for an environment like this to bring out the papers and put that inspiration to use. Hours rushed by as you sat under the trees beside the manor, writing away the scenes in your head as the maids brought you food. A few of those hours may have just been wasted on daydreaming, but that was the beauty of this entire situation — you simply had the time to waste in this retreat. 

Hyunjin had been more than satisfactory: he always came to dine with you for all meals, never concluding conversation, and made sure to accompany you on walks around the lands. Everytime you would step into new landmarks he would instantly recall the history behind it, explaining the work his forefathers had done on the manor, and lead you along till the sun followed you two down the horizon. 

You had initial fears. Just because he was your best friend before, it did not predict what his behaviour would be after marriage. You had heard many marital horror stories during the seasons of London society, and each one was worse than the last. Although you always knew the duke could never hurt you, there was no trusting the opposite sex. Fortunately for you, he rid those doubts from your mind, and maybe you began to have faith in the future.

There was, however, a downside to your new husband.

“Why will you not show me the drafts?!” he whined for the last time, following you into the house. Rolling your eyes for the millionth time, you took off your bonnet, handing it to the maid nearby. “I have waited long enough!” 

“I do not have to explain myself to you!” you argued back, grabbing your skirts as you rushed up the stairs, Hyunjin right at your heels. 

The man was much too quick, overtaking you instantly and barring you from stepping into the hallway. A groan was your reaction. “Let me through!” you ordered. 

“Tell me what your book is about.”

“I am not telling you anything!”

He curved closer to you, blond locks sliding off his shoulders. “Why?” he hissed, and you stayed stubborn as his hand on the bannister snuck closer to yours. “What have you written in there that is so exclusive?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, crossing your arms. 

It was not like you had written an anti-Duke of Hastings manifesto. Once again, it was just your humiliation — although you loved to write, there was absolutely no way you could ever willingly show him your work as of this moment.

You could not have your best friend be disappointed by your creations. 

So you turned completely on your heel, descending down the stairs.

“Hey!” you heard the man shout as you stepped into the entryway, picking up your book. “Where are you going?”

“To talk to the trees!” You looked over your shoulder, making sure to give him a glare.”Because I know they will not argue back!”

Before he could speak any more, you thundered out of the house, taking Pride and Prejudice with you. 

An enraged sigh escaped you, walking rapidly into the maze of hedges as you tried to stroll the anger away. When these silly arguments occurred, you began to wish that you had never told him of your work in progress. You could have just admitted that you liked to write, and feared that any other men would rob you off that hobby.

And on the last day of your honeymoon, too. Maybe you should have told him you were illiterate instead. 

Settling yourself upon the white wooden bench, right beside the forest, you opened up your book, gritting your teeth still as you immersed yourself in the world of Elizabeth Bennet. Although progressing, your thoughts drifted to another man who did not reside in the pages, and you found yourself even more aggravated.

Damned the beautiful bastard. Of course you were going to tell him of your writings. Why could he not simply wait?

The thought had you rigid on the bench as you read on, the mere wind and trees your silent company as you read away your rage. The duke did not come searching for you — it was for the better, because if he tried you would have ran away from his stalking figure. 

Night ascended from the horizons, and as the sun retreated so did you, back into the manor, book at your side. You nodded to the guards who opened the huge doors for you, letting you inside as you went straight for the stairs, void of the man who refused to let you pass.

Dim lights illuminating the way, you walked right up until your bedroom door greeted you, and when you saw Hyunjin, leaned back in the ornate chair as he looked out of the window, you paused at the entrance.

Although your steps were quiet, he turned his head to you. His features held a veil of unreadable emotions, cemented by the slight down curve of his mouth. 

You scowled at him as you stepped inside. “I am not showing you the drafts.”

He closed his eyes, nodding. “As you wish.”

You removed your coat, a brow raising. “I won’t show them to you tomorrow either.”

“As you say.”

Another brow joined its partner. “Nor will I show you them the next week.”

“Of course.”

What was this sudden change? “Hyunjin, are you unwell?”

“I am perfectly adequate, darling.”

The endearment had you frowning further. “Fine,” you muttered, knowing he was hiding something from you. “I will be inside, taking a bath.” 

You were about to enter the bathroom when his voice halted you.

“____?”

Looking over your shoulder, you answered, “Yes?”

The man let out a soft sigh, crossing his leg over the other. “I...I wanted to say that I apologise for my persistence.”

Now that was a statement you were not expecting. You opened your mouth, but closed it, thinking it was for the better, and instead leaned at the doorway.

“I…” he clasped his hands. “I realised that as I insisted and shouted, I was becoming the very man you wished to avoid. That is the last thing I want for us. If you are uncomfortable in showing me your writings, that is fine. A husband, most of all a best friend, should respect that decision.”

His eyes lifted to yours, pinning you with a fierce stare. “I will not persist with you anymore.”

You found yourself unable to break this stare as you, too, locked your hands together, biting your bottom lip at this turnout.

The duke had never apologised for anything.

In the many years you had known him, he would always stand by his decisions, even if they turned out to be disastrously against his favour. His stubbornness refused to let him submit to the other, and you had watched him have his boney backside beaten almost every week for it.

Hearing the plea for forgiveness had certainly changed that perception. 

You took a few steps toward him, willing your hands at your sides as his gaze followed. 

Was the denial really necessary? The poor man only wished to take a glimpse into your mind. Was that too much for him to ask for?

No. You had to stay upright. So what if he apologised? He should have! The man had caused a ringing in your ears from the arguing.

But now, even though the entire time your body repulsed at the thought before, you found yourself reaching for your satchel.

His eyes did not leave your hands as you brought out the papers, dumping your bag beside his feet. You held them out, knowing there is no way out of your actions.

“Here.”

Hyunjin looked at the papers as if they were hemlock. “Why are you showing me your drafts?”

You pursed your lips. “Because I want you to eat them.”

“I have no appetite for paper this evening, I’m afraid.”

The attitude had you warning, “Do you want to read it or not?”

He regarded you with an adorable puzzlement. “Darling,” he started, and the word had you raising it closer to him. “You do not have to show me. I cannot have you forcing to do something which you do not—”

“You’re not.”

He paused. Kept that beguiling stare upon you. You carried on, “Hyunjin, I need you to understand that it was never anything personal. It was me just...not really believing in myself.” Gently putting the small stack of papers in on his lap, you locked your hands behind your back. “But I gave you my word on our wedding night. And the day you proposed, and the day I realised you were a dear friend to me.

“You will be my first for everything. Especially in the goals and dreams I treasure the most.”

The duke’s eyes enlarged, darting to the drafts settled on his thighs and then to you, capturing your lip between your teeth in nervousness. He wished ardently that you would break that habit, for if you kept at it he might just grab your face and continue for you.

My first for everything. The declaration had his stomach turning in on itself. He knew he had been there for many of your firsts, but saying it out loud was something else. Saying it out loud meant you were aware of that fact as well. 

So unimaginable, that you did not even realise the impact you had on him. So unbelievably innocent, eyes searching for his answer, desperate for consolation, when he had completely different matters in mind. 

By God, if you did not turn around and leave him, he would let the control on him falter.

“I...I need to take a long bath, Hyunjin,” you said, finding his stare unusually penetrating. “By the time I am done you would have finished reading half of it.”

Turning, you stalked back to the bathroom, looking over your shoulder as you took a step inside. “No sweetening the feedback.”

You did not wait for his answer as you went inside, shutting the door.

Both of you, not realising that the other was doing so, let out a quivering sigh.

Something was amiss. 

There was this...tension. You did not know the origin, but you knew it was there, underlying and creeping closer. Hyunjin was unusually quiet. Compliant even. A small part of you feared that maybe you should not have given him the most vulnerable possession in your care.

Deciding to fill the hot water in the bath yourself, you got on with your task, filling buckets of water in the copper bathtub till it nearly overflowed. Once done, you got rid of your clothes, and stepped inside. You instantly relaxed as the warmth of the water soaked your skin, calming your nerves, which were running high moments before. 

As you progressed with using the soap, you distinctly heard the pages turning in the room next door. Scrubbing yourself, you hoped that the man was enjoying your words, or else you were never leaving this bathtub again. 

At one point, you leaned your head back, closing your eyes as the water, now mixed with the scent of roses, lapped lazily against you. Your thoughts, once again, wandered to the man a wall away from you — what was he thinking? You wished you were there beside him, witnessing his reactions to the actions, dialogue, romance you had added in there.

Maybe that was the real problem. The couple you had added in this story had a strong relationship, but because you yourself had never experienced any sort of star-crossed love, you did not particularly know how to portray the raw romance. Still, you made sure they held hands in the ballroom at chapter 49. That was the pace in every other book you read, anyway.

After what seemed like a whole night later, you finally got out of the water, drying yourself with the towel hanging beside the tub. Grabbing your white nightgown, you donned the light dress, keeping it as loose as possible as you tried to dry your hair further, opening the door.

When you looked up, you saw the duke, head down, scanning through the papers with a face so focused it worried you. You made to say his name, but his hand shot up, silencing you. He did not even glance at your figure, bringing the hand back to swipe a finished page. 

A little smile appeared on your lips. Is he...invested? 

Does he enjoy your writing?

Another ten minutes of observing him, and he put the last paper down. 

Slowly, he tilted his head upwards, turning to where you stood. His face expressed something cryptic — unable to decipher the emotion which swirled beneath his dark, glinting eyes. 

He then let out a scoff.

“Darling, I need you to sit.” He gestured beside him, on the edge of the bed. “Right here.”

Perplexed, you obliged, settling yourself on the soft sheets, watching him heave off his chair, the last piece of your draft still in hand. He began a pace back and forth across the room, shaking his head as he turned at every end.

The pacing began to concern you. “Hyunjin, is something the matter?” you asked, hands grabbing tufts of your nightgown. “If you really wish to walk then you have all of Cambridgeshire waiting.”

“Tell me, dearest,” he said, still thundering across the room. “Remind me why you did not want to show me your drafts.”

That was an usual first comment. “Umm...because I was embarrassed about my writing?” 

Your answer made him stop. Whirl to your direction.

“Ah, yes!”

His features twisted into anger.

“Such poppycock!”

You blinked back. “I-pardon?”

“No, you shall not be pardoned!” he exclaimed, pointing at you with the stash of papers. “Not when you have written something like this!”

“Hyunjin, what do you mean?”

The man nearly ripped his hair out. 

“____, you have written a bloody masterpiece!”

Your entire body stilled.

“I...I did what?”

“Wrote a masterpiece!” He swiped through the pages, lighting up at each word that passed his gaze. “A bestseller! An award winning novel!” 

A smile worked its way onto your lips. “You...you really think so?”

Sighing out in exasperation, he set the papers upon the desk as he began to lose his initial anger. “How could you be embarrassed about something so beautiful?” He put his hand on the gold chair, leaning onto its head. “Your descriptions were lovely, the characters are perfectly imperfect. You have outdone a lot of the writers in circulation.”

Your shoulders sagged a little — almost as if you had been carrying a heavy burden, and this man had taken it off of you.

You made sure he saw your joy when you said, “Thank you, blondie.”

Seeing the pure contentment upon your face had your friend looking away, eyes narrowing to the plans once again.

“There was, however, one thing which needed improvement.”

The setback had you straightening once again, eager to hear. At least he was not sweetening it fully. “Go on.”

“As I was reading through, right till the end, I noticed a lack of very important details.” 

That was quite strange. “A lack of?” you asked, when you were so sure that you had added too much of everything.

“Yes.”

His fingers drummed against the velvet of the chair. His other hand tightened upon his hip.

“I noticed that there was a deep lack of...passion.”

An incredulous look was your reply. “Passion?”

“Yes, passion. Desire.” He jerked his head towards the papers. “I hardly saw any of those emotions in the book.”

This new information was certainly quite worrying for you. “But I do not understand,” you started. “My whole novel is based on this relationship, of the love that blossoms and grows—”

“I understand that, darling, I really do,” he said. “I know what you are going to say.” 

The drumming continued. “But where is that residing in the chapters? Where is that physical lust implied in the characters?”

Lust. 

You had heard of the word before. Heard of its implications, yet never grasped the weight of its meaning. Was it just another form of longing? 

If only your mother had given you an education on this side of love.

“What do you mean...lust?”

Hyunjin raised a groomed brow. “What else could I mean, angel?”

The way he voiced that question, that endearment, had you parting your mouth, unable to say anything. You tried to speak, to say something to ease the tension which came slithering back into the bedroom.

“I...what were you expecting? From the relationship.”

Curling his locks behind his ear, his gaze became obscure. “You spoke of forbidden love, of...of a coupling which should not be occurring but happened through the fate of the universe. Is that right?”

When you nodded, he carried on. “See, I did not sense that from their exchanges. Their emotions are tame, chaste. An innocence which cannot be tainted.

“Now where is the fun in that?”

You dared not break his gaze. “What is that ’fun’?”

His eyes seemed to darken. “That ‘fun’ in the relationship is physicality. Where is that in your novel?” 

He took a step towards you. “Where are the unbreaking stares? The curious hands, aching to caress another’s? Where are the trembling breaths, the lust-stained sighs that fan lovers’ lips?”

The duke had you craning your neck back as he looked down at you. “Where are the kisses, my darling?”

You gulped. “K-kisses?”

“Yes, kisses,” he repeated softly. “Lips enveloping lips, tasting your inner workings? Travelling to your neck, your collarbone...places which cannot even be whispered in polite society?”

Each part he mentioned had goosebumps pricking at that certain place. 

The bastard still did not stop. “Where is that passion, ____? Where is that forbidden love, which only makes the heart burn wilder?”

And as he descended before you on his knees, delicate hands settling on your lap, you had a feeling swirl up your sides which had never struck you before.

“If I were the man in your book, I would not be tame with you.” 

His eyes offered a new, intimidating darkness. “Because if you were my woman, then I do not think I’d control myself. The moment I’d catch the innocence dancing in your eyes, I’d have waltzed it away into my shadows.

“Only God could save you from my hunger, then.”

Silence descended upon the two of you.

One waiting for the other to speak, and the other unable to form the words to do so.

The moon had illuminated your husband, one side of his face glowing like a celestial being, the other side basked in darkness. How strange, when he had compared himself to it just a few moments before.

You seemed unable to look away from him. His gaze, always intense, now had become so penetrating you wondered whether he could glance at your soul, quivering from his feedback. 

Improvements which you still did not quite comprehend, despite the implications.

Somehow, he could see it on your face. “I have a feeling you still do not grasp the idea. Is that correct?”

A half nod. “I…” God, speak! “I just...I have never understood it, Hyunjin.”

Your head dipped down, darting at the plains of your hands. “You asked me about lust, and I simply cannot answer because I do not know. I have never experienced such emotion.

“Hell, I have not witnessed a single action that you spoke of. How could you expect me to write of desires I have never even felt?”

This.

This was unchartered territory. This was a terrain you had not explored with him.

Yes, he was your best friend. But one does not talk of such...dangerous conservation when your best friend happens to be a male — a complete rake, at that.

It seemed as if the rake, too, was thinking the same. 

His legs, a force which had never let him down, threatened to buckle under him. His mouth opened, only for silence to answer you. 

Lord and all His subjects help him. He did not think he could contain it any longer.

And as his eyes exposed you, vulnerable before him, he only knew of one thing — one fact within this ocean of uncertainty you swam in.

He would jump into the waters for you. But not to haul you out to safety.

No, the duke would drag you down further, with him as your sole saviour.

Or even your destroyer. Your fated undoing.

For the Duke of Hastings will absolutely ruin you, body and soul.

“Hyunjin?”

A blink.

A singular action, dragging him back to dark, dark reality, even sweeter than his fantasies as it sat before him, shy and wide-eyed.

An innocent reality all for him to defile.

“Yes, angel?”

You tried not to shudder at his lilting whisper. “How am I to be helped?”

The man did not even think of the possibilities, to your surprise.

If only you knew, how long he had kept them hidden for.

“How about...how about I assist you?”

Confusion washed over your features. “And how would you assist me, Hyunjin? You have never written a novel.”

His answer was a chuckle, revealing slight glimpses of his teeth as he stood.

“That is true, yes.”

Sitting down beside you, he planted his hands behind him on the bed, leaning into the position. 

“But what I can provide aid for is the one feature you lack in your writing.”

His voice right behind gave you a fright.

“Pure, raw lust.”

Looking over yourself, you watched him reclined in ease. Your speech was uneven as you said, “And...and how will you help me with that?”

“Simple, my darling.” A pause, looking you over. “I shall provide you with examples. Show you what truly happens between a man and woman when all they yearn for is each other.”

He saw the further questions in your gaze. The questions you dared not voice out loud, perhaps dared not understand. 

Smirking, he sat himself up, eyes never leaving yours as his hands encircled your own, bunched up in your dress. As his fingers brushed against your linen he felt his skin go aflame. 

“If, of course, you would let me.”

Tilting your head slightly upwards, you sensed a foreign warmth envelop your face, burning at the sight of your friend studying you like an empty canvas, begging to be filled.

Perhaps you were an empty sheet of paper, waiting to be painted with guidance by the master. Maybe that master was beside you all along.

“What will you do to me, Hyunjin?”

There it was. The question which may have been his drug — his purest form of opium. 

Because when his hands travelled upwards, sliding to your face and imprisoning you with his stare, he knew he would become addicted.

“Not only show you what real passion looks like.”

A shame he did not care for his well-being when you were so fucking tempting.

“But show you what real passion tastes like.”

The shuddering breath that left you caressed Hyunjin’s lips, and he debated throwing the whole course of patience out of the window, and ravage you this second.

But he would never do that. Not unless you asked him to. 

“May I?” He whispered, eyes heavy lidded. The need for an answer was beyond rationality.

You looked at him one last time before you let your heart answer for you.

“Show me, Hyunjin. 

Those three words were all it took for the duke to close the distance. 

Close the final space which had stayed so irritably prevalent, when he brushed his lips against yours. 

The first thought that came to mind was how soft his mouth felt. 

Plush lips, moving against yours with the utmost gentleness; as if testing the waters, familiarising their new surroundings. He did not know what to expect, which was a thought that shocked him. Had he not bedded half of London to know the ins and outs of how a man should pleasure a woman?

Still, his vast knowledge could not prepare him for you and your shy acceptance.

His fingers cradling your jaw, satisfied, he delved in a little deeper, the weathered leash beginning to loosen as he found his opium upon your mouth.

You attempted to follow his actions — letting him lead the kiss as if it were the many dances you had partaken with him, treating this as yet another waltz you both had to share. The issue was, dancing never brought you the unnerving thrill that these ministrations did.

Hyunjin’s kisses were quite indescribable. 

When he tilted your head with the pressure of his fingers, gaining the fullest possible access to your lips, he thought his heart would burst from his chest. So compliant, you were, trailing after his actions. His pleasure heightened when he felt your heartbeat race beneath his fingertips, which resided just underneath your jaw. 

He would have been a happy man if he continued the kiss forever, but he forced himself to break away, remembering that this was your first, that you were not acquainted with the dance of passion. His gaze pried over your features, and a famished smile nearly broke upon his face.

He found you shivering beneath his grasp.

Lips glistening, courtesy of his own, eyes wide and skin warm, there was no other reaction which the duke would have savoured more. A fearful excitement resided upon your beautiful face — almost as if you were scared of yourself, of the feelings he ignited within you.

The man was not far from his prediction. You were positively terrified.

Terrified of the fire-like emotion that threatened to turn your stomach in on itself. It was an extraordinary sensation — as if you were engulfed by some unknown, mysterious fire, and Hyunjin was the one sparking it to life.

You parted your mouth, trying to speak but to no fruition. 

And him, whose eyes grew darker at the lack of words, curled his fingers to your jaw, smirking. “I can hear your heartbeat from here, darling.” A singular finger tapped against the spot, where your blood pumped quicker than usual. 

Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears too, making you all the more aware of the situation — you may not know what these feelings were, but you needed to find out.

It was not entirely your fault. A writer must do their research, after all.

Painfully swallowing the lump in your throat, you made yourself speak, asking the questions which haunted you. “Is...is this all?” you got out.

Hyunjin slanted his head a little, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” your hands instinctively reached for your lips. “What we just did. Is that all that happens?”

The hesitation had him chuckling, the shaky exhale caressing your mouth. “Do not pretend that you were unaware of kisses,” he mused, and you desperately tried to look away. 

The slight grip on your jaw had you unable to do so. “And as for your question…” the smirk remained. “We have barely touched the surface.”

His other hand skirting downwards, it grazed along your collarbone, tumbling to the free space at your side. It settled itself among the bunched linen, holding you steady. 

“I can show you more,” he whispered. “If only you wish it.”

Face burning further, you closed your eyes, letting your head dip in acceptance. You could not even think at this point — you were curious. Beyond intrigued, wondering whether these feelings would swell up more, take you into another reality farther from your imagination.

It was a slight inconvenience that Hyunjin shook his head. 

“No, my darling,” he said softly, the fingers on your jaw sliding to your chin. “I want you to say it. Say you want more.”

You had not the slightest idea what this ‘more’ was, but you sure wished to discover — judging by the ravenous gleam in your husband’s stare, he wished for you to find out too.

“Fine then, Hyunjin…” one last pause ensued. “I...I want more.”

The said-man let a small groan escape before capturing your lips again. 

He knew he was being selfish — almost pouncing on you like a man starved, grip on your side tightening as he quickened his pace, slowly prying your lips open.

When you felt his tongue skim along the seam of your mouth, you found yourself opening up to him, shocked at the sudden enthusiasm. Your hands, unoccupied, fumbled at your lap, unsure of their use until Hyunjin, his own hands leaving you, held onto them. 

With precise direction he placed them on his shoulders, all the while slithering his tongue inside. You found yourself gripping onto him harder as he explored you, he himself nearly transcending at your yielding. A groan threatened to escape, but was drowned out by his mouth, closing over yours and kissing you insane. 

His tongue worked wonders within you, swirling along with yours, desperation increasing with every time you complied with his actions. He opened your lips a little wider, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, and you could not contain your moans any longer. The whimpered replies had him tugging on your lip, slowly sinking his teeth on the swollen flesh. Your fingers could not grasp harder, the lock around his neck tightening with a growing need.

Is that what it all was? Urgency? What was this need for?

You hoped with all your heart that Hyunjin would know.

He pulled away from your mouth, and with gasped breaths, he got out, “Angel, may I—” His thumb caressed the corners of your lips, trailing down to your neck. “May I kiss you here—?” 

The second the ragged yes escaped, the man’s mouth began peppering little kisses along his finger’s trail, leaving your skin burning with every touch. Dipping his head into your neck, he tugged down the neckline of your gown, settling on your collarbone. The hem descended to your shoulders, threatening to fall at your waist. 

His kisses did not falter, even when you gasped out his name, a soft cry which only grew when his teeth grazed at your skin. Pain bloomed at the touch, but the feeling did not last long, replacing it with his tongue lapping up the mark. The dull ache remained, yet forgotten as he created a pattern of these stinging sensations.

“____,” he whispered upon your skin, a hypnotic chant which only had you whining in response. His mouth skimmed right up to your ear in frantic. “I...I must show you even more.”

You stilled completely. “E-even more?”

Hyunjin’s eyes did not leave yours as his hands travelled down, holding onto your sides. Slowly, he tugged you forward, your body merely following as he laid you down into the bed. Your heart hammered as he towered over you, the loose shirt revealing a glimpse of his chest, and his locks, drooping down to your face.

Your hands held onto the sheets. The gesture had him melting, so endeared by your little scares. What would you know of what will follow?

His idle fingers began to roam. With every shuddering breath they journeyed further below, until they found the hem of your nightgown. He held onto the fabric, slowly sliding it upwards. 

You hissed slightly at the cold that welcomed your bare legs, but it was overshadowed by his warm caresses, every touch causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Or something of the sort. That was what it felt like to you, anyway, with how out of place the reaction was. 

You asked him as his fingers paused, right on the edges of your upper thighs. Confusion, mixed with an overwhelming sensation, washed over you with every phantom touch. “What are you—” you paused as his hand tugged your legs open, ever so slightly. “What are you to do with your fingers?”

His answering gaze had you praying for the Lord. “How about I show you instead?” The contact lingered. “I promise it will feel wonderful.”

There was no other answer you could offer him. A hasty nod could only suffice as, with that signal, the duke braced himself for what he had been dreaming to do.

Nothing prepared you for the feeling of his fingers past your thighs. 

Your breathing hitched as they teased against your entrance, running slowly along your slit. He collected the arousal which pooled at the apex, mouth agape from your reaction. 

How you were drenched for him. 

The very sight, and the prolonging idea, had the man exhaling sharply. Even now, he could see in your gaze — you were unaware of your own responses, your body’s hurried joy as it begged for his fingers to delve in further. 

Tonight, he would show you a glimpse of his fantasies. 

His one finger slipped inside you, and you felt the world turn.

Slowly, so painfully slow it slid between your folds, completely halting your breath as you gaped at him. He held your stare with a dark intensity — no doubt there was hesitation on his part, scared his control would shatter, terrified he would submit to your desire and break you under his hold. Already the thought was so appealing. 

Still, he kept his fantasies at bay, holding your face like a fragile artifact as he delved deeper. A soft moan escaped your lips, and he cocked his head, realising it was a whine you tried to contain. 

“Angel, please,” he murmured, and when he paused on his journey you looked at him in desperation. “Don’t be shy with me.”

And then, grip on your side tightening, he began to pull his finger out.

This time, it was impossible to restrain. 

A heightened gasp shuddered out of you, gripping onto his shirt. How could an action so simple be so electrifying? The idea could not make any sense, but it did not need to when it brought such pleasure. You pulled on the fabric harder, elevating Hyunjin’s joy at seeing you so bothered.

“Yes, just like this,” he cooed, repeating the movement. This time, though, he quickened the pace as he began peppering little kisses upon your face. Each brush of his lips was like fuel to the fire below, growing angrier with every leisured plunge. “Say it all for me.”

You did not need to be told twice. 

Your whines grew as he quickened, foreign waves of mysterious origin overtaking your body. You feared his singular finger might be enough to do something drastic, but then his thumb started to wander. When he found your clit, he created a slow pattern of circling the bud, causing you to squirm beneath him. 

Seeing him above you was all too much — you needed his lips upon yours, needed to be lost in his tongue or else you would lose your mind. “H-hyunjin,” you stammered out, and the dazed expression had him reeling. “Please...please kiss me.”

He nearly moaned at the request itself. There you were, asking for his touch. His delirium spoke for him, letting his delusion a little astray. “But darling,” he muttered, leaning his face closer to you. “How can I watch you like this if I simply kiss you?”

Releasing his finger till the mere pad remained, he smiled at your panting. “How will I be able to watch you when I do this—” and brought two digits inside you.

He felt your walls pulsate around him, and he revelled in your reactions, the groans that followed with his delving. So, so compliant. So wonderfully welcoming, when all he did was touch the surface. 

Your speech was all muddled, broken words and half-prayers as his fingers worked within you. As if that was not enough, he curled them inside, and there, he brushed against a spot which had you seeing stars. You could hardly stay still under his grasp, squeezing your legs together. 

“Fuck,” he slipped out, and the curse itself had you fisting your hands in his shirt, damning the turnout if it were to tear. “Sweetheart, it’s okay to let go, keep those legs open.”

Further fastening his labour, you found yourself developing the most intense feeling in your gut — like a dark, swirling ball, aching to be released. You tried to raise your head to kiss him, but he only did the same, you barely missing him.

“Hyunjin!” You gasped out, and the said-man knew that no orchestra could compete with the music you tuned for him. Grabbing clumsily onto his collar, you tried with meak strength to bring him down. “Something...it’s wrong, something is amiss—”

You cut a glance down, where your cunt was more than occupied with his digits. “Wh-what am I feeling?!” In a frenzy you stared at him again, tears pricking your eyes. “Why do I feel—”

The duke only shushed you, a gaze akin to affection being offered to you as he trailed a slender finger upon your cheek. “Oh, sweet angel,” he whispered, voice a little breathless.

“That is me keeping my promise.”

And when he finally swooped your lips in a heart-wrenching kiss, fingers never stopping below, you let the overwhelming feeling take over. The aching was freed, and you broke away with a cry as you released onto him, spilling onto the sheets. 

Hyunjin commenced a trail of sweet kisses upon your face, slowing his work inside you. Lethargy washed over you, and you barely sensed him slip his fingers out until the hollowness of your cunt welcomed you in his stead. 

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you watched him as he brought the two digits to his parted mouth, sucking softly on the skin. A low noise hummed out of him, and you found yourself growing warmer all over again.

He caught you looking at him, and he slipped his fingers out with a pop!

“Truly divine, you are.”

Skin burning, you quickly shimmied your nightgown down, earning a chuckle from your husband. “That was…” you began, and you did not know why the thought made you so flustered. 

“Do not worry your pretty mind, sweetheart,” he reassured you, flicking your nose. “Your release was answer enough.”

That only had you all the more embarrassed. “Hyunjin?”

His eyes rooted to yours. “Yes?”

“Was this…” you paused, trying to find the right words. “Was whatever we did...everything? Was this the end?”

Despite the two of you only finishing now, the duke had his gut turning in on itself all over again. This time, he let patience take over. He had been rewarded more than enough.

He still answered with a hushed tone, offering you another vision. Another promise, which he intended on fulfilling even further. 

“Of course not, angel. This was merely the beginning.”

 THE NEXT MORNING SAW THE TWO OF YOU IN LONDON.

It was a much more gradual journey than the previous one, with all the time in the world to go back to the duke’s main estate, where he was called to work after weeks of leisure. You, first indignant, were now devastated to leave Hemingford, a place which became a special haven in such a short time. 

But of course, one could not neglect their husband. Not when that husband would never let you leave his side.

Hyunjin was all eye-smiles in the carriage, hands refusing to let go of you despite your complaints. You did not particularly mind, but when he resorted to kissing you with the curtains drawn, your levels of embarrassment nearly broke the scale, amusing him to no end. 

There was no stopping him, though. After taking the first heated step with you, the vault of restraint in his senses had cracked. All this time he had proceeded with caution, but your heightened whimpers of the night before had undone the cellar of his desires. 

Once again, you had experienced another first with him. A first which he wanted to conquer for a long, long time.

Unfortunately, business called, or else he would have stayed a few weeks more. Damn the men begging his presence, when he could have explored every layer of your innocence in that manor, revelled in ruining you of your ignorance. 

He thought he had time to show the world of pleasure. 

Alas, the fantasy he created in his Manor had to fade.

Reality crashed upon the two of you unfairly quick — there was not a moment’s rest as you arrived at Lansdowne, the official estate of the Hwang family nestled in Mayfair. It was more an enchanting palace than a home, every room, furniture and painting like pieces out of a fairytale. You could never forget the first time you entered, knowing that despite your previous comforts, you were to be spoiled in this abode. 

The unfavourable situation which turned out from this was that your husband was not present to spoil you in his royal den.

As the days began there, with banality taking over, the two of you barely had any occasion to spend some time together. Business sunk its claws into the duke, refusing to show mercy. All the days and most nights, he managed tenants on his lands, heard their complaints and attempted to provide solutions. 

The problems arose while he was away tending to you in your getaway, his subordinates incapable of handling the work he did so effortlessly. It frustrated Hyunjin to no end, when he had to learn these strategies since his adolescence, yet his employees, far older than him, could not manage to use his funds efficiently. 

Although this meant time was sparse together, you did not mind so terribly. Having solitude meant having opportunities to write, and so you threw yourself into your drafts. You revised the more intimate scenes between your couple, and dared write down your first experiences onto the page.

Even documenting the occurrence had your stomach fluttering — when he kissed you delirious, going as far as slipping his fingers inside you. It felt like a delusion in your mind, scared that you merely created such events through your imagination, but you could not not make up such passion.

Hwang Hyunjin had shown you a very tangible fantasy.

It was these memories that kept you company as you penned down your world, a couple thousand words being scrawled on paper everyday. You wished to talk to him about taking matters further with your novel, but whenever the two of you had the occasional dinners you could not bring yourself to address the subject. He was already so occupied, and dumping your own tasks on him would devastate you

So you secluded yourself into your room, and only wrote.

Few weeks into Lansdowne, and you began to miss him.

You did not know how this feeling entered, but the moment it crawled into you it was all you could endure. It was not uncommon for you to miss your dear friend, even before marriage, but now that you lived with him, the situation changed. During the afternoons, when you burned your mind from the constant writing, you longed for his presence; conversation never ran dry when he was around, and the maids who offered refreshment were hardly an alternative.

Your longing, unfortunately, did not stop there.

Ever since that fateful night, you failed in shaking off the ever present tingling. His midnight eyes, akin to the devil, haunted you in isolation, and the sheer image of his full lips quickened your heartbeat. In fact, when you wrote a similar recount into your writing, the incident came into your mind so clearly you had to abandon the task altogether. The familiar wetness pooled at your core, and you cursed the heavens for being weak.

His fingers had an everlasting impression on you.

That was a whole other problem — you and Hyunjin, because of his tightening schedule, hardly had any opportunity to explore further of what happened. Teasing words and stolen kisses were your only alternative, and you dared not ask of him to do more. Your cowardice may have been one of the main reasons, but he was another factor of your silence. The man came home every night, so exhausted that even requesting to have him satisfy you brought you shame. He was much too tired, and you could not be selfish.

So you did not bother him. Let him leave every morning, and imagine what would be if he did not have so many responsibilities.

However, another couple of weeks later, and the need became unbearable.

Your every thought and feeling was replaced with this...this urgency. It was horrifying to you, never having been forced to such extremes, but it preyed on your mind like a beast. Meaningless tasks turned into burdens, sleep was lost, and your very heart threatened to burst from the intuitions. You wished to stop, but once you remembered that phantom touch, it was over. There was simply no alternative.

During those times, you could barely look at Hyunjin, offering you tired smiles as he disappeared into your chambers. You figured he did not notice, or else you knew he would make a comment on your worsening state. Truthfully, you were overjoyed that he was too exhausted to see you like this. If there was any chance he was aware, that alone would kill you off.

But this desire, too, was slowly withering you away.

Even as the sun began to descend, birds singing softly beyond your intricate window, soon to be drawn to a close. The library was bathed in gold from the light, painting your face as you attempted to write the last of the chapter, but to little success. 

You figured your creativity had had enough of being stuck in your bedroom, so you opted for a change of scenery, but the parasite was at hand, churning just below your stomach. Even with the thousands of books settled all around you, radiating their knowledge, the ache remained, dull yet present. You scowled, pushing the pencil harder in your hand.

The poor lead broke suddenly, making you flinch. “Argh!” you let out, throwing the object upon the desk. Useless — you were so utterly useless, reduced to a mold of nerves, growing with each image that passed in your head.

Cursing, you put your hands in your lap, looking to the gardens beyond the window. 

There is nothing you can do, ____.

The need arising, you slid your palms back, enough so they rested over your core. 

A dangerous thought entered your mind.

That’s not true. There is one solution.

Your eyes widened.

Of course, there was always that alternative. Glancing down, you involuntarily pressed your palm to your clothed cunt. Already a wave of pleasure washed over you, and you suppressed any sound with a hand to your mouth.

You cannot. By God, you cannot do such a thing.

Especially in a bloody library.

Turning around, you glanced at the bookshelves guarding your figure, stretching to the painted ceiling. As an aspiring writer yourself, you cursed yourself for suggesting to do such an action in your temple, with the place your church and the books your Bible. 

However, when the ache begins to creep over, your morality seemed to fade at first flight. 

What a shame your brain was not to be listened to.

Shooting up from your chair, you nearly fell to the plush carpet, leaning against the desk. Gradually, you took a step forward, and another, searching for any secluded area among the lines upon lines of populated shelves. 

“Where is it, where is it,” you mumbled to yourself, passing the Greek Literature aisle, moving further into the darker section. When you spotted the end of the library, you turned to a dim lit section of Romantic poets. “Aha!” You exclaimed, finding the place you were searching for.

This particular section has been a favourite little hiding place for Hyunjin. Recalling the memories, you always caught him here whenever the two of you played hide-and-seek, or when to comfort him here after a particularly harsh spat with his father, the late Duke of Hastings. Above all else, he found himself isolating here whenever he wished to read by your insistence, finding solace in the words of Blake and Wordsworth, picked up on the shelves. 

You, on the other hand, did not come here to read. 

Backing up against the wall, you let yourself fall to the lush carpet. There was barely enough space to stretch your hands apart, feeling the wall on one side, and the bookshelves with the other. It was small trouble, though, as space was not the priority — simply distance. 

Thankfully, you had time — dinner would be served in about an hour, and the servants had been told not to disturb you as you ‘write’.

It was now or never.

“Lord forgive me.”

Grabbing onto your skirts, you raised them upwards, along with your petticoats. After undressing your pantalettes, your white stockings came into view, ending right above your knees, tied with baby pink ribbons. 

With your underwear gone, you felt the cold caressing your dripping cunt. Immediately your fingers rushed to swipe at the arousal that pooled onto the carpet, a hiss escaping your lips. Then, moving higher, you felt the swell of your clit, and began to rub circles, so, so slowly — just like Hyunjin did, exactly like his fingers did.

The ripples of pleasure crashed over you with every swipe of your fingers. It was the most wonderful feeling, experiencing it after a span of weeks. Yes, somewhere in the back of your rational mind, you knew you looked pathetic, whining softly from your own efforts, but your desperation took over; you had been patient long enough.

Your desire, however, had no such moments to waste with such gradual rubbing, so pent up inside you that it forced you to quicken your pace. You prayed that no one heard you, for the sobs that flew out your mouth increased, playing and teasing your clit till it nearly numbed you.

The real bliss poured out when you plunged two of your fingers into you, going deeper and creating that identical pace, relished before. You closed your eyes, and images came flashing back — the midnight eyes returned, along the malicious grin, and suddenly it was not your fingers that pulled and pushed into your cunt. Your mind dared to conjure up Hyunjin, his dark laughter ringing in your ears as he curled his fingers into you, reaching a spot which had you seeing the seven heavens. 

So far along, you did not care if the others heard. With your concoction before you, fingering you delirious, you called out his name. A panted “Hyunjin!” squealed out of you, the word laced with madness. How you begged for release, when it was actually in your control.

And maybe you would have come all over your fingers at that moment. Maybe that was a fantasy that would have been rewarded to you if reality had not been so unkind.

For it was reality that arranged a presence turning to his favourite hiding spot. For it was cruel, cruel reality, bringing at your secret aisle the very man who caused your current frenzy.

Hwang Hyunjin. 

Sweet Duke of Hastings, who thought to surprise his wife and return home early, so he could join her at dinner this evening. Curious Duke of Hastings, who found the servants informing of your ‘work’ in the library, and so walking to you himself, expecting the distant sound of sighs and scribbles on paper. 

Shocked Duke of Hastings, when he heard his name instead, being moaned at the end of his library. 

His pupils dilated, gloved fingers hanging on the edge of the shelf, he grew flushed in his attire as he watched your near undoing. You whimpered his name over and over, as if that was your only comfort among the heavy sensation in your gut, the pleasure which numbed your senses. He trailed down to your sopping fingers, clumsy in their rhythm.

A shuddered breath escaped him.

It was then he let out the most self-satisfactory scoff. 

That moment, you opened your eyes. Widened when they settled on your husband, face exposing an aghast expression as he crossed his arms, gaze never leaving the mess between your legs.

He had the audacity to grin wickedly.

“Oh my, sweet angel. What do we have here?”

Your entire body stilled, fingers frozen inside of you. Every ounce of strength, which tried to make you speak, abandoned ship. 

Noticing clearly, a splutter of hellish laughter spilled from his lips. “All this time,” he began, feline amusement dripping in his voice. “All these lonely, lonely weeks, I was so guilty.” His boots made a soft thump against the carpets, grey longcoat fluttering after him. “I kept thinking, see, of you, so alone and unentertained. Stuck in her chambers all day and night, burning out her brain with her words. Writing of my examples.”

He unbuttoned his overcoat, pinning you with his gaze. “Little did I know you were impersonating me.”

You almost cried with shame. 

“God, I doubt I can call you angel, again,” he drawled, tossing his woolen jacket behind him on a nearby chair, pulling off his gloves. 

He uncovered his slender hands, continuing, “Not with your fingers still in your cunt.”

That nearly had you in tears — you yanked your digits out, making to push your skirts down in a hurry but were dutifully stopped by his raised voice.

“Pray, darling,” he inquired, and you could taste the ridicule as he stood before you, crouching down. “What do you think you are doing?”

He did not give you time to answer as he grabbed your hand, half-soiled by your endeavours. “Why have you stopped the show when the intended audience has arrived?”

All these questions messed with your senses, squeezing your thighs together as the high, threatening to undo you before, began to fade. “Hyunjin—” you said, but you were interrupted, as, with his hand, he lifted your trembling figure with ease. Legs unstable, you let him steer you until your back hit the bookshelves.

“Another notion puzzles me too.” His golden locks skirted along as he cocked his head.

“Why did you scream my name when you touched yourself?” 

Your mouth parted, remembering your incessant whining. The thought caused your entire body to burn up, your husband taking instant note. “Come on, now, darling,” he taunted, grip on your hand tightening. “We both know you are more than capable of speaking.”

It was surprising how you managed to speak, despite the phantom touches.

“I…” you paused, embarrassed that you tried to tell him the truth. “I do not know...damn it!” you hissed as you saw a phantom smile accompanying his hands. “I had this...this need, Hyunjin. Everytime I recalled that night, I…all I wanted was some sort of...release.”

“Oh?” he got out, and he had to cage you with his hands for his own stability. 

The thought of you, withering in pleasure — pleasure you did not realise you yearned for — had his mind transcending any sense. There he was, stirring the cauldron of desire bubbling in your veins, your face twisting in pain from your lack of knowledge. 

He had to pray for forgiveness for his mentality, but at this moment in time, he only knew of one religion. You, and your wishes, whispered in panted breaths.

“If that was what you felt, then why did you not tell me?”

If it was not for his hand gripping yours, you would have covered your face. “How could I?” you whined out. “You were so busy! I could never be selfish enough to put myself before you.”

His heart nearly burst from his chest. “My darling,” he hummed, stroking away the flyaways upon your face. “Do you not realise that I put you before myself?”

Your confusion had him continuing. “If you had told me that you had such...needs, then I would have damned the work to hell.”

Suddenly, you wished you were the most selfish person in the world.

“Every wish, your every want…” his eyes promised the world. “It is mine to bring it to you.

“So tell me, angel.” His fingers lingered on your face. “What do you want?”

Alas, that fated question.

What you wanted was to tell him without doubt that you wished for his fingers inside you again. What you wanted was your husband fulfilling his promises, showing you more, more, more until you forgot your name from the sheer force.

You hated how your speech could never voice it out loud with confidence.

The man noticed your face warming beneath his touch as you stammered, “I-I want—” pausing from his fingers on your cheek, “Hyunjin, I want you to…” 

Your pathetic attempts had him chuckling. “So innocent to me still?” He asked softly. “Even when I caught you moaning my name like a whore in the night?”

Whore. Sane you would have slapped him for saying such a thing, but the arousal that pooled at the term meant completely different. He was aware of your reaction, causing him to be compliant. 

One day, he would voice it out of you. One day, you would say from your own mouth that you wished for ruination.

“How about this, ____?” he started. He brushed a small kiss upon your forehead, heart fluttering at the chaste action. “When you want me to stop, voice that out instead.” The next kiss was upon the tip of your nose. 

You thought up a worrying confession, but when you saw his expression change, you realised you blurted it out.

“I don’t think I would want you to stop, Hyunjin.”

The molten lust in his eyes nearly undid you then and there. He offered you a low, satisfied growl, wondering how in God he could ever resist you.

“I don’t think I would be able to, angel.”

He did not say any more, swooping down and enveloping your lips with his.

You instantly accepted him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer, closing your eyes and letting him paint an artwork of desire upon your mouth. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, but your confession cracked the glasshouse of desire he had tended for so long. 

His tongue was inside your mouth at once, and you relished its desperation, letting it explore all of you as his hands wandered down, your own sliding into his locks. Softer than all the silks in the land, you already felt the moans bubble within your throat, partially escaping with every parting. His heavy breathing in your ears only wished for all distance to fade.

There was so much of him, all at once — you had shared kisses with him after that fated night, but you knew those kisses were the sole form of affection he could offer in those lonely weeks. The way he bit your bottom lip, soft and then a little harder, had you losing all sense.

It was such things that made you realise how much you missed his presence.

Tearing away from your lips, he gave fevered attention to your neck, trailing his kisses down your skin, open and wet and restless. “Hyunjin—” you began, but then you gritted your teeth at the pain of his suction upon your throat. His hands pushed you further into the shelves, and a few books began to fall at the force. 

“H-Hyunjin!” you exclaimed, eyes darting frantically to the classic editions that scattered on the floor. “W-wait, not here!” 

The man blinked in his haze of desire, looking at you. “Huh?” he got out, spit-slick lips parted, his whole body raising from his breaths. “Why not?”

“The-the books, they...!” you tried to explain, but with the stare he offered, you quietened within moments. “...Hyunjin?”

His answer was his hand taking your wrist and turning from the secluded corner. He steered you out of the hiding place, pace hurried with each step he took. Head whirling to every aisle, he cursed under his breath, finding the spaces between the shelves filled only with books. 

“What are you...searching for?!” you demanded in bated breaths, but then he let out a satisfied noise as he found an open aisle, the first line of shelves in the library. 

In front of those shelves sat a large, wooden step ladder — no doubt there to grab onto the higher sectioned novels. A knowing smirk enveloped his features as he led you to where it stood, backing you against it.

A small yelp escaped you as the man hoisted you upon the steps, you holding onto his shoulders as he slithered his arms around your waist. “There,” he said, tilting his head slightly upwards. “Now you shan’t worry about your novels falling.”

“Easy for you to say!” you crowed, already feeling unstable, despite sitting on the sixth step. “This time it might be me falling!”

“Well then,” he began, tugging your legs apart till he fit snug between them, “You just have to hold on tight, don’t you?”

Oh, you were going to kill him.

Leaning forward, he halted your breath, brushing his lips across your neck. “I can stop if you wish,” he whispered on your skin. His hand rested over your chest, where it rose unevenly under his palm. When you did not answer he looked up, climbing so he levelled with your face. 

You felt his heavy breathing fan your lips. “Do you want me to stop, angel?”

His eyes saw right through you — with the way a malicious smile began playing at his lips, he knew his answer long before you registered it yourself.

Head shaking hurriedly, you murmured out your response as you grabbed onto the lapels of his longcoat. 

“Never.” 

You pulled him down, desire taking control of your senses as he undid you with his lips. His hands, sliding down, hitching your skirts higher than before, bunching it at your waist. Never giving himself a break on your mouth, he peeled off his coat, tossing it beside the ladder. Only when you broke away to take a panted breath did he begin his descent — kisses on your neck dragged down further, along your clothed abdomen until he parted, shuffling the fabric from between your thighs.

An uneasy fuck flew from his mouth — your glistening cunt welcomed him again, the recollections of the last honeymoon night crashing back. 

In truth, the events had not left his mind. The memories of his fingers playing with you, inciting those sinful sounds were the few things which brought him a high in the dark days of work. You, drenched by his efforts, dripping for him, and only him, to take care of you.

Seeing the sight before had Hyunjin restraining his cock. Fuck, he thought, leaning closer till his face was a mere inch from the center. He did not comprehend the consequences of this; what if he went crazy? A part of him was distinctly aware that if you were heavenly around his fingers, then you with his tongue would transcend reality.

Hands holding the back of your knees, he slung your legs over his shoulders, securing his fingers upon your thighs. With one last inhale, he closed the distance.

Nothing compared to his tongue running along your slit.

A hiss left you at the contact, tendrils of pleasure curling up your spine as he explored the edges of your cunt. He was teasing, being too leisured for your liking — he could not help himself, fearing he would rush the process and end it too quickly.

He wanted to be inside you the entire night.

Your incessant whining had him lapping up the wetness, gripping onto your legs a little harder as he delved in further, tasting your arousal and letting out a satisfied noise. Leaning your head back against the higher steps, your hands carded through his hair, his locks a comfort for the slow torment below.

When his tongue dove upwards, circling your clit, an obscenely loud moan tumbled out of you. He was so exceptional, so good at what he did to you, licking away at the bud as if he had not been served for days. Your whining was more encouragement for his antics, increasing his strokes with a slight curve to his lips. 

What reduced you to choked gasps was an old prospect from the first night — his digits, leaving one of their spots on your leg and slipping one inside your folds. As if his tongue was not enough, that singular finger created a rhythmic pattern of plunging in and out of you. 

You thrashed under his grip, hips rolling giddily along with his work. Even the ladder began to shudder, jutting slightly back and forth from your desperation. Although the squeeze on your thigh was an indication to calm down, you ignored it, too intoxicated by the thrusts of his tongue to realise his signal. 

He made you realise as he paused his ministrations entirely. You nearly shrieked at the lack of his presence, but then you looked down, and found his lust-hazed eyes staring at you. 

“H-Hyunjin?” You mumbled, voice raspy from your previous moaning. 

The slick glazed on his lips brought you another level of high. “I need you to stay still, darling,” he voiced, slender hand gripping onto your thigh. “You even have the poor ladder shaking.”

You willingly nodded your head, knowing you were lying through your teeth. If he continued with his tongue prodding at your clit, then you would start trembling from the thrill. 

“I don’t think I believe you,” he mused, blowing on your drenched cunt. Seeing you shiver had him chuckling. ”I need you to be still if you want true pleasure, sweetheart.”

An ironically chaste kiss upon the edges of your thigh gave you more reason to grip him harder. “I want you to enjoy this as much as I am.” 

As much as I am.

Good, sweet Lord.

Maybe you will never move an inch again.

“K-keep going,” you whispered, near frantic as you played with his locks. “Please.”

The please at the end was exactly what he needed before he pounced into you again. 

His tongue was relentless — a second finger joined in the venture, and the fullness of him was back again, with an intensity that only promised satisfaction. You knew it was coming, with the heaviness in your lower abdomen. 

You needed that release. Whatever it took, it was the only image in your mind, taunting you of the relief that came with it. With the hard grip of his locks, your husband sensed it straight away, quickening his pace with both his tongue and digits. 

Damn Hwang Hyunjin to Hell, for he was so unfairly good to you — licking your clit to a frenzy, touching a certain spot inside you, over and over again. He never missed, never faltered his labour as the burden inside you intensified. You sang his praise in your stained mind, hoping he could see the joy on your face.

“Hyunjin—!” You whined out, stealing a glance at his head, moving back and forth slightly between your legs. “It’s—the feeling, the one before—!”

You did not have to say anything else; his free hand, wrapping fully around your slung over leg, made you realise of his awareness. The feeling was at its peak then — one more of his stripe along your cunt, and it was over.

Fortunately for you, the Duke of Hastings kept his promises. 

One little nibble of your bud, plunging in his two fingers at the same time, and it was useless. Your release came rushing through, cries escaping your lips as you undid yourself onto his mouth. All sense of surroundings abandoned you: you were drifting away, like a kite losing its roots, further and further as his fingers slowed. You feared that you would lose all sense until his tongue lapped up the release. His hums of satisfaction anchored you back into the library, hands at your hips as he heaved upwards, watching over your dazed expression. 

You saw his every move, licking the remnants of your release off on his face. He then hovered closer, locks more sweat slick as they caressed your skin. 

“God, angel,” he rasped out, holding your chin with his stained fingers. “You…I can’t...I can’t get enough of you.”

He stole a kiss upon your mouth, but your shy whines caused him to go deeper, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. “Shit,” he whispered as he parted from your lips. “You must stop me, ____. I cannot take you all at once, I…no matter how much I wish, I cannot...fuck, I cannot taint you.”

And maybe it was your husband, admiring you like a poet would his muse. Maybe it was something more than the dull ache inside you, the flutter moving to your heart which had you saying the next words. 

“But I...” you paused, every panted breath heavy. “I never…never asked you to stop.”

Hyunjin stilled completely before you. 

His eyes were too much, but you did not stop the confession pouring out. “If...if there is something more, I…” his thumb on your chin hardened.

“I want to know. I want to see it all...even if it may taint me.”

There it was. 

The thoughts which haunted you for the past few weeks. You wanted more, even if that meant that this more would one day be satiated. You wanted to see the end, the final stage, because you knew deep down, your best friend was still holding back from you.

You saw it in his eyes. You saw his unadulterated desires, dark and fearful, yet you wanted to be surrounded by his darkness. 

You wanted Hwang Hyunjin to break you like he wished.

Sure enough, he saw it all over your face too. His jaw turned slack, and he debated slamming his head against the shelves to make sure he was not dreaming.

He did not think his wife would let him have a moment’s peace. 

“God help you, sweet angel,” he murmured, glancing at your dress — more specifically, how to get you out of it. “I don’t think I can leave you innocent any longer.”

You parted your mouth to speak — Hyunjin was about to interrupt you, perhaps take you to the final stage of your passions.

Everything was about to descend when you heard the shrill knock on the door.

Your heart jumped out of your dress, the man above you catching onto your shock. With an unexpected burst of anger, he turned his head towards the large doors and screamed, “Who the fuck is it?!”

The servant at the opposite side flinched at the tone of voice. “Um, there is a guest in the living room, Your Grace!”

That did not help his case. “Then tell them to piss off!” The Duke demanded, holding onto you a little harder.

“But Your Grace, he urgently requests your presence!” The boy insisted. “We tried telling him of your...distractions, but he would not listen!”

Hyunjin looked like he was about to tear the manor down with his orders, and you widened your eyes, holding onto him. “It’s alright,” you reassured him, and possibly reassuring yourself too.

He glanced at you, and the frenzied stare he pinned you with shut you right up. “Fuck,” he cursed, running an angered hand through his hair, the other not leaving your side — as if you would fade from his grasp. 

You feared it too, in truth, that he would disappear. The thought plagued your senses, much more than you would have liked.

“To hell with that bloody guest,” he growled, leaning into you again. He pressed his forehead against yours, cupping your face with his hands. “To hell with everyone.”

“Hyunjin,” you breathed out, relishing the contact. “Hyunjin, it’s okay…” you held his agitated stare, wondering why you were convincing him to go when you wanted him to stay. “I will be here, you know...when you come back.”

He searched your gaze for confirmation, needing to affirm your words. When he found the suppressed desire within, he could not help himself. 

He planted his mouth upon yours, finding solace along the lines of your lips — he loved how your every kiss was a comfort, a sweet little sin all for him to enjoy. In honesty, he could spend an eternity basked in your warmth, but alas, reality was a villain in his tale.

Forcing himself to pull away, he ran a tender thumb along your cheek. “I shan’t take long, angel.”

You nodded tiredly, in time to the man holding your waist as he settled you back onto the carpet. Lingering for a few moments, he made himself leave your side, grabbing his coat and donning the heavy fabric. He satiated his desires with a glance towards you, dazed off with your hands clinging the ladder railing still. 

A small smile catching onto his lips, he turned on his heel, promising murder to whoever disturbed the moment he dreamed of. Opening the door, he looked back, catching your stare. 

The smile upon his face grew wider. A smile so sincere, so loving, with all the world’s miracles nestled upon his pretty mouth. It was a smile that you had never seen before, with all your years beside him — seeing it now had you wishing you could bottle the image and carry it with you forever.

It was a smile which had you so in love with him.

Love.

It was then your heart dropped. 

Hyunjin, unaware, closed the door behind him, leaving you to your revelation.

Instantly, you clutched at your chest, heartbeat racing. 

In love.

You were in...in love with Hwang Hyunjin.

“No,” you slipped out, mind rushing a mile a minute. “No, no, no, no—”

You gripped the railing harder as the hand on your heart trailed down, shivering from the phantom touches of your husband.

Hell, of the husband that you had fallen for. 

One would think love was an entity writers would idolise — your own inspirations searched and indulged in all kinds of love, but you always accepted that an emotion so intense was not for women like you. Love was a rarity. Love was unconditional, strong and vivid and all-consuming. 

Love, undoubtedly, was a weakness.

Your breathing turned ragged, hands reaching to clasp your head in panic. 

I will be here...when you come back.

Your promise to him, before he left you to your hysteria.

Why would you ever say such a thing to him?

“Oh, no,” you kept chanting, turning over to your side, away from the door and towards the window, where night was small comfort to your nerves. 

You could not let yourself succumb to a man. No matter how dear he was to you.

And if that meant staying away from your husband, then so be it.

 IT WAS UTTER AGONY AVOIDING YOUR BEST FRIEND IN EVERY PASSING MOMENT. 

Perhaps you should have given reasonable explanation to why you decided to distance yourself, but of course, reasonable explanation was never your forte. 

Hyunjin, damn him, tried to make more effort in returning home earlier, despite his business demanding his presence with every passing day. You were almost powerless under his tender gaze, but you knew that you could not be swayed.

As if you had not fallen under his spell already.

Your only distraction was your novel, so you did just that — even with your husband in the manor, you closed yourself from everyone, writing furiously on your desk as if committing to anything else would cost your life. The flushed skin did not shy away as you wrote of your second experience, changing the events slightly so they fit your story. The memories tried to torture your mind, but you refused to submit. You could not fall for Hyunjin.

You could not fall for a man.

The duke did not realise of your avoidances, simply thinking that you evading his more heated kisses, his dangerous touches, was a result of your fatigue. He understood, knowing you worked your brain as hard as he. He was upset, obviously, when he craved your touch every waking second. For you, though, he would do anything. If that meant waiting, he would do that too.

However, your recoiling could only last so long. Your best friend knew you like the back of his hand.

He figured something was amiss when he decided to grace you with his presence one evening, expecting another show of your moans behind the door, only to have the distant scribbling of ink against paper. Entering inside, he awaited your surprise, your unadulterated joy, bracing himself to have his arms engulfed with your hug.

In reality, he received a mumble of blessing, and the continuing scribbling.

He was not trying to coax you into giving him affection. He was well aware of how hard you worked on your novel, but that day, he dearly wished you would abandon your project for just a night. Just one, single night, so he could show you how much he missed you every single moment.

Poor, unfortunate man. How was he to know that your affection was the one thing you could not give him?

Another few days into the silence, and Hyunjin had had enough.

He called to you one dinner, ushering the servants away with the flick of his hand. The dining room became all the more huge, like a lush vault, perfect for a sweet interrogation as the velvet curtains drew to a close, and the eyes of a hundred paintings focused on you. You swirled the soup with your spoon, refusing to look at him. 

“Darling?”

Damn him and his endearments. “Hmm?”

The man, too, seemed to be unsure of how to talk of the subject. “Is…” he put his cutlery on the table. “Is everything...alright as of late?”

Your gaze remained rooted to your food. “Of course,” you said. “Why would I not be?”

There was a heavy silence in the room, new and uncertain between the two of you. Your friendship with the duke had never been filled with such quiet — why were you creating such awkwardness around him?

You already knew the answer.

“Do counter me if I speak incorrectly,” he began, grabbing the stem of the wine glass. “But I have noticed you to be quite...secluded.”

“I am busy, Hyunjin,” you said curtly. “I have a whole novel to edit.”

His lips twitched downwards before opening his mouth, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a small sip. “I know you do, and you know I am proud of you for it.”

Choosing to not say anything, you tried finishing off your dinner, aware that you were losing your appetite. It seemed your husband did not want to back down tonight. “____, I feel as if you are hiding something from me.”

The spoon in your hand nearly clattered in the bowl. “And why would you think that?”

“Because—!” Hyunjin paused, downing some more wine. “I do not know, but I feel as if you do not want to speak to me.”

He was too smart for his own good. “You are imagining things,” you waved him off, finding your salad fork oh so interesting in the candlelight.

“Look at me.”

His voice stopped you cold. 

Your gaze scrambled to meet his, and although his command was rough, his eyes exposed a completely different emotion. 

Pure concern washed over his features as he muttered, “Have I done something wrong?”

That question broke your heart.

“No, no, of course not,” you quickly said. You bit your lip in guilt, watching him sigh, almost in relief.

This was the consequences of your actions. A man who had done nothing unjust, yet was being punished. Pure shame coursed through your veins, catching the distress on his face, and you wondered whether you were being cruel. Maybe this time, your feelings were exaggerated.

If you were aware of such truths, then why could you not look your best friend in the eye?

That night, you hurried to bed, leaning on the edge in wait for him. Your thoughts were in disarray; your heart impatiently desired his return, and your brain berated you for daring to. 

Truthfully, it was horrifying how you had become so dependent on someone, when your entire life you relied on the fantasies in your head. Although your revelation was every lady’s dream in society, you felt as if another burden had been dumped upon your shoulders. This time, though, this burden would last for the rest of your life.

These thoughts were your singular company, when you lay awake all night. You were acutely aware of Hyunjin slipping between the sheets, but you did not move a muscle. A small part of you knew that if you turned, you would be unable to resist his whimsical gaze and wandering touches.

So you lay rigid, only letting yourself sleep till your best friend submitted himself to oblivion.

He, too, could not bear to live like this.

The Duke of Hastings was not a fool. He had not known you for over a decade to discard you lying through your teeth. It was beyond his understanding the reasoning of your change, but it deeply disturbed his soul. 

He turned in the bed, watching your back bathed in moonlight. Why would you not tell him what bothered you? What had he done wrong?

As he watched you stay rooted in one position, his thinking turned to dark corners. A realisation struck him; you started acting this way the day after he nearly took you in the library.

This alarmed him greatly — was that why you were so troubled? Were you...uncomfortable with his touch?

His heart dropped down to his gut. 

If you truly detested his affection, then he would not know what to do with himself. Recently, it was all that haunted him — you, you, and a little more you, strolling through his mind as if it were your domain, creating stories underneath his eyes. It only worsened when he discovered your sweet moans, triggered by his kisses and touches. God, the very thought of you, whining his name as you touched yourself, brought him a familiar feeling amplified. So ardently he wished to taint you further. 

Even thinking of the images had him clutching his pillow tighter, fingers aching to turn you over. 

However, the harsh fact was that you could not bear to look at him, and he had to live with that. Questioning you was of no use. 

Hyunjin only prayed that he did not scare you off. 

Unfortunately for him, his prayers were not to be answered. 

Days passed, and the distance grew. The man dared not say a word to you in fear you would stray further, and you dared not approach him in fear you would fall harder. It was the most abhorrent situation, and you knew you had to get away somehow.

Fate spoiled your plans when Hyunjin revealed some news.

You looked at the invitation in slight horror. “A ball?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he explained further. “When we were...interrupted that day…” he sighed a little. “It was Seungmin who was downstairs.”

“Kim Seungmin? Has he returned from the States?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “And he has decided that the first thing he wishes to do is throw a huge ball in celebration of his return.” A roll of eyes followed. “Forever the dramatist.”

You restrained your laughter. “It has been over 2 years since we met,” you wondered out loud. 

“Well, you can meet him at his estate when we attend the ball.” 

He felt your eyes on him as he declared his words. Awaiting your outright rejection, settling down on the chair in the living room. You watched his thighs tense under the peach trousers as he folded a leg over the other — damn him for being too attractive to refuse.

“Very well,” you only said, not ignoring the nerves which threatened to take over. They increased a little at seeing the smile on your husband’s face.

You needed to stop leading the man on. Never could you go to the ball with him. 

“It is a week from now,” he added, bobbing his foot excitedly. “I shall write back in acceptance as soon as possible!”

Nodding, you returned to your reading, hoping the faux conversations were enough distraction.

A week. Seven days to somehow escape from this event, or else everyone would see you enter the ball as an official couple, and then your fate as another man’s property would be sealed.

Had he ever made you feel as such?

You did not let yourself ponder over this further. Your only objective was getting out of this invitation.

However, you were a duchess. Trying to hide yourself from London society was an unattainable feat. 

The reminder had you nearly ripping the page off your book, too stressed to read on.

This became your focus of the next week, pondering over the night of the ball, scouring your mind with the possibilities which may occur at Seungmin’s estate. As the days neared, Hyunjin insisted you go shopping in search of a special ball gown, and you only obliged so you did not have to be in the same house as him. Still, if he was not there physically, his image preyed upon you in the markets, constantly reminded of his opinions and likings in every fabric you ran your hands upon. 

There was no escaping him. You were disgustingly obsessed.

Purchasing everything you needed, you requested it to be charged on Hastings’ tab, a privilege awarded to you ever since your joining with the duke. You always argued that you wished to spend your own money, but he would not listen.

“But I adore spoiling you, angel,” he would merely say, and buy up half the boutique, leaving you a flustered mess. The conversations did not leave you as you bought your dresses and accessories, returning home and dreading interaction.

Excusing yourself, you shut yourself in your room once more, and wrote.

Wrote away your soul in the last days, till it was the morning of the fated event. The sun shone magnificently on your home, but failed to radiate its light on your darkened mood. You had no choice on the matter — you were to accompany Hyunjin to Seungmin’s celebrations, and that was final.

You were about to fake typhoid when a letter arrived for you.

It was from your mother; she wrote in question of your wellbeing, and how much she felt your absence in the house. The content was not very interesting, and you debated writing back with a lack of enthusiasm when you read the last section.

She mentioned tonight’s ball — more significantly, how she felt ever so lonely without you with her, “enlivening her spirits��. The praises were nothing further from the truth, but it was her confession which had an idea rushing to your head.

“Lonely without me, huh?” you murmured, as you rang a bell for a maid. Arriving, you requested for a little trunk, asking for your new dress and other adornments to be packed. “For once, Mama, you have been useful.”

The packing did not take much time, the other servants calling for a carriage as you made preparations to leave for a night. Hyunjin, making his presence known, descended down the stairs, a grin upon his face as his hand fished in his inner pockets. 

When he saw your endeavours, though, his beaming flickered. “What is going on here?” he asked, refusing to look away from your luggage.

You turned to him, mustering up the bravado to face him with your decision. 

“I received a letter from Mama this morning,” you explained to him in faux ease, gesturing for the servants to bring your belongings outside. “She is feeling rather lonesome, so I thought to see her.”

The man was not convinced in the slightest. “Since when did you garner sympathy for your mother?”

Never confide in your best friend again. “Please,” you stressed, holding the letters in your hands. “She still took care of me the best she could. Plus, I would never want to be lonely at that age.”

He was not listening to this explanation though, his hands going into his pockets. “When will you be back, darling?”

The endearment made this all the worse. “The morning after.”

A heavy pause instilled on the both of you before he broke it. “But...but the ball. A-are you to just...abandon the invitation altogether?”

“No!” you began, locking your hands behind your back. “No, I shall meet you at Seungmin’s estate. It is a small setback, but—”

“____, this will be our first social event as husband and wife!” he countered, you grimacing at his minor outburst. “I want you by my side when we walk down the steps!”

“But I will be there, Hyunjin!” you exclaimed. “I do not understand why you suddenly want to follow these silly traditions!”

Gritting his teeth, your friend pinned you with his stare, growing fiery the longer you held it. Traditions never interested him, but this one had been a certainty he had been looking forward to. The image of you, descending the stairs with your hand on his arm, brought him an absurd amount of joy.

But there you were, bursting his bubble of dreams.

“Why is this all coming to light today?” he muttered, taking a step towards you. “Why, on the day of the event, you decide to tell me that you would rather go with your mother, who never truly cared for you, than me?” 

Than me, who always did?

You dared not answer his question truthfully — instead, you let your undeserved anger take the reins of your tongue.

“So you are already suspicious!” you snapped. “Why am I not surprised in the slightest?”

His eyes narrowed at the statement. You did not look into it further as you turned on your heel, heading towards the door. “Do not run away from me, ____!” He shouted, following after you. “Tell me what you implied from that horrendous comment!”

“Oh, let me uncover it clearly for you, dearest,” you snarled, standing at the doorway. The words which were to leave your mouth had sure consequences, but in the moment, you did not care. All you wanted then was an escape.

“You accuse me of scheming and demand me things which I do not want to give you.” 

Your hand gripped the letter behind you. “You’re becoming the one thing I feared, Hyunjin. You’re turning into a typical male.”

The man froze entirely at your claims.

Did not utter a defense against him as you sighed out, glancing away from his shell-shocked eyes. You did not bid your farewells as you descended down the stairs, reigning in your temptation to look back as you made your way to your transport through the gardens. 

As you slipped inside the carriage, clasping your hands in your lap, you wondered whether you had taken a step too far. 

You wondered, with rising dread, whether you had broken your best friend’s heart. 

 MAYBE RUNNING TO YOUR MOTHER HAD NOT BEEN THE BEST OF IDEAS.

Biggest reason being that she was truly a pain in the rear. The moment your carriage had arrived on the rocky entryway of your mother’s manor, she rushed down the steps. After engulfing you with an embrace which might have caused a minor stroke, she hurried you inside, her servants bringing your possessions.

You did not particularly miss your previous abode, although it gave you small relief. You passed the familiar hallways, and settled in the nostalgic parlour room where your mother gushed over your presence.

Still, this manor did not seem like home to you.

Conversation was mostly struck from your opposite, you nearly silent as the woman vented out her frustrations of every family in London, drinking her tea and urging you to take a biscuit or two. Your stomach was void of an appetite, missing other emotions which you abandoned on the other side of the city.

By the time evening arrived, all you wished to do was hide yourself into your old room, but your mother would not accept. Having the maids open your trunk, they brought out the ball gown you had picked for the occasion.

It was a dark, seductive red, swell of its puffs cuffed with black lace — this lace scattered over the fabric, lining not only the neckline but down the chest, rose-like stitches etched onto the bust. The high-waistline also bled further black stitching, almost all over the gown as it fell to the floor, with a midnight ribbon trailing at the back.

You bit back a fevered sigh. Hyunjin would have adored this gown.

The thought had you pursing your lips, requesting the gown be pressed. Then, walking over to the dressing table, you settled yourself onto the seat, using the accessories bought previously to style yourself. With the assistance of a few maids, you managed to accentuate your hair, adding small pearls within the locks.

The ballgown came back in an instant, and you undressed yourself, waving away the girls in your room. Firstly, you slipped on a thin chemise — then, you allowed a maid to enter to help with the corset, who tightened it at the back without mercy to your body. Barely able to breathe, you loosened it slightly after the girl left, focusing your attention on the gown. After adorning the petticoats and white stockings, you adorned your attire, slowly as to not crease its fabric. Hooking the back yourself, you turned to the mirror, holding the black gloves.

There was no doubt about this countenance — it was exactly to your husband’s taste. Clamping your lips together, you donned the gloves, the silk smooth beneath your touch as you filled them to the fingertips. With one final peek at yourself, you slipped into your shoes, and left the bedroom. 

You were a fool to think of any other person but your mother welcoming you at the entrance, but wishful thinking had always been your flaw. Her string of compliments had you adorning a ghost of a smile, but you did not say much as you both climbed into the carriage, instructing to journey to Seungmin’s estate.

Without a novel to distract you, you fell into a habit of clasping and unclasping your hands as you sat, waiting for the ride to be over. Your mother was small comfort as she filled the silence for you, but even her voice strained your mood — you wished for other discourse, or other meaningless entertainment.

You ached for laughter.

Whatever. This was your consequence. You must bear with it.

If your mother knew of your troubles, she certainly did not voice them out loud. She did ask of your relationship with Hyunjin, but you waved her off with false reassurances — you could not have her prying into your private life.

“I hope he has burned off your silly writing fancy!” she drawled, catching the lights of the destination flickering closer to our transport. “As a wife you have much more important duties.”

Gazing afar through the window, you spoke your truth. “Actually, Mama, he encourages it.” A small chuckle escaped you. “I think he wants me to be an author more than I do.”

“Oh?” The woman brought a hand to her chin, impressed. “That is a rare occurrence indeed.”

Catching your raised brow, she scoffed. “Do not gawk as if you are not aware of men. I am shocked he has given you freedom.”

You listened to her, watching the estate linger closer. “Child, you have found a man who does not restrict you in your passions. I do not know how you accomplished such a feat, but you must be extremely thankful.” A glance was stolen towards her. “Such husbands only exist in those books you love so much.”

Before you could comment on her statement, the carriage slowed to a stop, reaching the final stop. The footmen opened the doors, and your mother stepped out first before you followed, careful not to ruin your dress on the pathway. 

The crowds had you leading inside the estate, luxury which could compete with the Duke of Hastings being exulted in every corner of the interior. Dozens of lords, ladies and other aristocrats wandered in all places of the house, your own mother being swept away by her friends in her social circle. Your presence felt less relevant with each passing second, fearing you would lose yourself in the rush of golden curtains, rose perfume and unwelcome conversation.

You thought that this ball would grant solitude, but then you heard the bright drawl of a familiar lord. 

“By God, is that my dear bookworm I see before me?”

Jumping from the voice, you whirled on your heel. A surprised smile caught on your face.

“Seungmin?”

The said-man returned your shock with a mischievous grin. Lord Kim Seungmin changed greatly since the last time you saw him — what was once thinned, pale cheekbones were now full and golden, amplifying his eye-smile, which he did not lose in the Americas. He was adorned in navy blue, contrasting with his off-coloured pants, black hair styled effortlessly away from his forehead.

“My goodness!” he began, strolling over to you with his mahogany cane. “Even after two years you upkeep your radiance.”

“You flatter me,” you said as your smile widened. “You certainly have changed. I adore the tan!”

“I fear you are the sole admirer,” he confided, narrowing his gaze at his incoming guests. “As if I wish to look like a ghost among men!”

“You have earned my approval, at least,” you complimented in earnest. “Not that it would matter much.”

Seungmin scoffed at your comment. “Says one of the most affluent women in the country! When were you going to tell me you were Hyunjin’s bride?”

Your irritation sparked as your heartbeat raced. “It was very recent, I admit. I would have sent word, but it would not have reached you.”

“I daresay I am not surprised.” 

You peered at him, then. “No?”

He gave you an incredulous look. “My dear, everyone anticipated the occasion. Only you were clueless to the possibility.”

Gritting your teeth, you jabbed him with your hand, causing him to chuckle. “Ow! I was hoping you would mature by this time! No doubt your duke encourages this!”

Preferring to stay silent on the matter, Seungmin continued on the subject, making it difficult. “Where is he, by the way? Gossip tells me it is your first ball as a couple.”

“Is he not here?” A shake of his head had your nerves creeping back. “Oh, um, my mother was alone, so I thought to accompany her instead.”

You nearly grimaced at his callous features. “How bizarre,” he murmured. He then offered you his arm. “If so, then allow me to accompany you in his absence.”

Accepting his arm, he helped you navigate your ways through the huge foyer, the grand stairs welcoming you two as dozens upon dozens of aristocrats came into view — the host nodded his head in greeting at every passerby, leading you down each step, until your feet landed on the floor of the ballroom. 

Examining the area, you marvelled at the pastels colouring each wall, corner and crevice of the vast space in the room. Sweet music filled the air, and murmurs of many ladies and gentlemen resonated everywhere around you, growing louder as their eyes rested on you, your sensual attire, and the lack of husband on your arm.

“How about a dance, Duchess?” Seungmin asked you as he brought you closer to the center. 

Instantly you shook your head, stopping in your tracks. “No,” you refused, tugging on his arm. “I have no wish for dancing this evening.”

“As if you ever have,” he mused, earning your glare. “I presume you await for your beau? Everyone knows you dance first with him.”

A sharp breath exhaled from your nose. “Nevermind that, just take me where the cakes are.”

Laughter spilled from his lips, stirring you to the refreshments. “As you wish, ____.”

Making your way through the guests, you finally ended up where the food resided, tables lined from one corner of the room to the other, flanked in every type of nourishment. Your gaze found stands of cakes, and you left your hand on your friend’s arm, raised towards the deserts. As soon as a servant handed you a plate, the chocolate cake was in your hold.

“Honestly,” the host started, as you cut a piece with a fork, digging straight in. “And they call you the pinnacle of grace!”

“Who in heaven said that?” you asked, baffled as you ate another small piece. Seungmin, snapping his fingers, brought a tray of champagne over to you. Picking up two flutes, you began, “For me?”

Downing the first, he offered you a grin. “What made you think that?” he replied, already sipping the second. “My party, my alcohol.”

This time you giggled at his demeanour, he handing you a drink as you finished your cake. The bubbly goodness was welcomed, warming you up and calming your senses. 

After the third glass, the champagne-induced man let out a huge sigh. “Right!” he exclaimed, propping the glasses on the table beside you. “I must find myself a pretty lady to dance with.”

“Do try to stay on your feet, Seungmin,” you said, raising your flute in toast. 

“No promises!” he merely countered, disappearing into the crowd.  

Your smile faded at the isolation which hit.

There you were — hundreds of people surrounding you, many potential partners to dance with, yet there you were, hand not in another hand but wrapped around your alcohol. 

You could not blame a single soul. This was all your doing.

That had you consuming the champagne to the last drop. 

At least there was some form of relief in this ball, as you watched Seungmin and about a dozen couples form a circle at the center of the room. With the first opening of the music the host led his partner, all the others following suit. 

Watching the waltz had you remembering the last dance, the fateful night where this union came into fruition. Your friend’s smile, his hand on another’s waist, all these images reflected the very same you experienced many weeks before.

You bit the inside of your cheek, reminiscing deeper and deeper. You hated how every fibre of your body ached for his presence. The worst part was that it was not mere lust, or the carnal desire which erupted at his thought.

You longed for him — his banter, his mischievous eyes, and his rather heart-wrenching smile.

The music heightened, the climax of the dance falling on the ball room as Seungmin whirled and whirled his partner, a string of giggles faintly heard from the crowd. When he twirled her one last time, he caught her instantly, at perfect harmony with the ending of the sweet melody.

Applause scattered across the hall as the couples bowed to each other.

A curse escaped you then. 

There was simply no doubt of your feelings — avoiding him could never be the solution. 

This revelation may have arrived at the perfect time.

Because, as the music played once more, a figure emerged at the entrance. 

The murmurs, one by one like a slow wave, died down as they caught sight of him, gazes shocked.

Sipping your champagne, quite puzzled, you turned to the origins for this change of atmosphere. 

Every atom in your body stilled. 

Froze completely at the sight which stood at the foot of the steps. 

You were unable to suppress his name.

“Hyunjin.”

It was as if, by a miracle, he heard your shivered whisper — his eyes skimmed the crowd, frantic beneath the calm.

They found you in the chaos.

Your very breath disappeared from your lungs.

Hwang Hyunjin looked like the devil’s greatest fantasy; as if he stole the night and imprisoned it in his attire. He was adorned in lustrous black, waistcoat patterned with red swirls of velvet. His collar was slightly ruffled, cravat of midnight as it barely brushed against his chin. His tailcoat somewhat glistened in the chandelier light, dark leather boots still as he stood before the hall.

His greatest change was his hair. Once golden like the lights of heaven, it was now as black as the underworld. Half of the locks were swept up in a ponytail, the rest curling at his shoulders. 

The flute nearly dropped from your hands. 

Seungmin, finding his friend on the steps, burst into a smile. “Hastings!” he broke through the silence with enthusiasm. With his voice the crowd fell into frenzied discourse, the host making his way through his guests, strolling towards the new arrival. “By God, it has been too long!”

Hyunjin hummed, not particularly interested in what he had to say. His gaze from you did not stray for a heartbeat. Seungmin, catching on, wrapped a hand around his friend’s shoulder. “I see you only came for one person,” he said, leading him to where you stood. 

Champagne was not the only substance which heated you further, cheeks growing warmer the closer he walked over to you. Every move he emitted exuded sensuality, as if his bones were made of silk. 

You let yourself to a third serving when he stopped before you, Seungmin clapping his hands together in excitement. “Look at the two of you!” he proclaimed. “Your clothes match so perfectly!”

Sure enough, both of you adorned the same hues of dark reds and raven blacks. You felt his eyes rake over you, and you restrained to not do the same, lest you let more than your stare wander. “I always knew you two were right for each other,” your friend continued, grabbing his fourth flute, drinking away in glee. “I am overjoyed to see that you both see it.”

Something cold swirled in your husband’s stare, and you ran a finger along the empty glass, embarrassed to hear such genuinity. “Hyunjin, the second waltz is about to start.” He gestured his flute towards you. “I know you always dance with each other first.”

The duke’s eyes flickered to the host for a mere second before pinning on you again. “I have no desire for dancing tonight.”

You had trouble downing your drink. “How strange...” Seungmin noted, darting between the couple. “Your wife here said the same thing not an hour ago.”

“Did she now?”

The silence that followed was quite unbearable. Even your friend was unimpressed, offering Hyunjin a drink from the waiters nearby. “Oh, you both are such bores! Maybe marriage is not the solution after all.”

You dared not look at him then, fiddling with your black ribbon. “I need to get drunk!” the host declared, tutting his head at the tension created. “I will come again when you two stop being so bloody shy.”

Shy would not be the most accurate term, but Seungmin was too intoxicated to care. He strolled to compliment a gathering of ladies within your radius, which left you with the one man you feared to be alone with.

Hwang Hyunjin. 

Hwang Hyunjin, in his changed, midnight glory, watching you with an indecipherable intensity. Creating the wildest butterflies ever felt inside your body. 

You did not know where to start. 

The man did not understand where to begin either, tongue at loss for words. There were too many words to spill, too many feelings left constricted.

He wished to say something, but his senses had failed him. So, much like you, he stayed silent, wondering if the two of you would ever break this barrier.

Even then, he could not help but linger closer, leaning against the lush walls of the room, right beside you. His presence was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Tailcoat brushing against your skirts, he examined the ballroom along with you, itching to reach for your hand. He would never really, but in that moment, you were beyond tempting. 

You see, he had no idea what you would wear tonight, and after the spat at Lansdowne, he yearned for change — hence the raven hair and darkened clothing, so unlike his usual pastel attire. He did not even think that you would attend the ball in fear of his presence, but seeing you before him, engulfed in his favourite colours…

He would have damned society and taken you in this very hall. 

Daringly, he let himself wonder whether you felt the same — he heard your shocked murmur when he arrived, and the further shocked stare which made him ever so smug. If only you would let him do something about it.

If only you would let him ease this tension before it spiralled out of control.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as Seungmin came stumbling back, alcohol, swishing back and forth in his new glass as he giggled at his guests. “Dear friends!” he broke out, hands raised, some of the drink accidentally slipping out. “Oh, forgive me, gentlemen!”

You heard Hyunjin sigh beside you as he held his own hands out to steady his friend. “Steady now, man!” he warned. The drunkard only chortled, foot stepping onto your dress.

“You should not have drank so much!” you scolded, raising your skirts. Glimpses of your stockings came into display, and Seungmin shrieked.

“Careful duchesh!” he slurred excitedly, leaning right into you and wiggling the glass as if it were a finger. Unfortunately, he had little control over how hard he shook his alcohol, and it all spilled over. 

Right onto your white stockings.

Yelping, you saw the middle part stain in pinkish-red, murking the material with every drop landing. “Seungmin!” you yelled in agitation. 

“Oh bollocksh!” he cursed, causing a few gasps around the hearing radius. “I apologishe, dear, so very very much—”

Hyunjin, witnessing the scene, stopped a nearby servant. “Please tend to your master, here,” he ordered, pointing towards Seungmin begging for your forgiveness. Nodding, the boy took the host away, the latter hiccuping as he asked for more wine. “And do not give him any more to drink!” the duke added.

Focusing on you, he rushed over, assessing the mess made. “Damn fool has spilled quite a bit.” Whirling his head to any exits, he spotted a dark hallway, remembering the route of the estate. “Come with me.”

You glanced at him, frantic. “Where to?”

He did not answer fully as he wrapped a hand around your waist, almost making you forget that you had wine spilled over you. “Seungmin has many spare rooms,” he explained, leading you out of the ballroom. Thankfully, the crowd was too occupied in preparing for the second waltz to care for the distressed couple. 

Keeping your skirts raised, you managed to keep your gown safe from spillage as Hyunjin led you down the less crowded hallways, depictions of the Kim family painted on the walls. “Ah!” He got out, reaching to a familiar room as he opened it, ushering you inside. “This is where I usually reside whenever I stay at the estate.”

The room was basked in dark, velvety colours, perfect for the man next to you. Lush carpet underneath, the huge bed, nestled at the wall at your right had its curtains drawn, revealing glistening indigo sheets, matching the framing of the bedroom. Dressing tables, wardrobes and the like were furnished at each corner, your focus drifting back to the dweller. 

There was barely any light, save for the oil lamp sparked to life by his match. Setting it to the side of the bed, it brought much more life to the room, previously engulfed in mystery. 

Without the upheaval, the space was basked in silence. You realised the hand on your back was sorely missed, and Hyunjin, standing a few feet away, clenched and unclenched that very hand, yearning for his fingers upon you once more.

But the two of you kept playing that little game of keeping quiet. Sooner or later, one of you will have enough of this sickening ploy. 

Groaning, you walked over to the edge of the bed, kicking your heels off as you saw your stockings, fully stained. “Damn it,” you muttered, promising Seungmin murder. 

Another few minutes of your grumbling, and he had had enough. 

“Maybe I can be of assistance.” 

Perking up, you found Hyunjin, walking slowly to you, hands fumbling in his coat pockets. After a few seconds of rummaging, he brought out a package, tied with red string. 

You raised a brow. “What is this?” 

“Open it,” he merely said, taking a step closer as he held it before you.

Hesitantly accepting, you tugged on the end of the bow, unraveling the tie. You did not forget the stare which rested on you the entire time you opened the wrappings. 

When the paper unfurled, you examined the contents.

Before you were a folded pair of black stockings.

A soft exhale escaped as you beheld the present, the midnight silk soft to the touch, already aware of its rich feel. You delved in further, and uncovered white ribbons at the top, for tightening their grip. 

“How…” you trailed off, dumbfounded at the coincidence. “How did you…?”

“No, no, this was…” he locked his hands behind his back. “Something I was supposed to give you this morning.”

“Oh.” This morning. When you two had that particularly nasty fight. “I see.”

You glanced down at the present again. Hyunjin had proven, once again, how refined his taste was. “I have never seen such exceptional detail on stockings before.” Discarding the paper at your feet, you ran your thumb across the material. “I doubt this suits me at all.”

There was a pause at that. 

You knew there was something he wanted to say. The way his jaw ticked, the boot lightly tapping on the floor — he was bursting to add a comment which may be a risk, considering the circumstance of your relations. 

Allowing yourself to be the first to dare, you peered up at him. The curiosity, explicit in your eyes, had him clearing his throat.

His hesitancy faded. “Show me, then.”

Catching the ferocity in his stare, you swallowed, hand at your skirts. “If…if you wish.”

And that was all he needed to begin.

You watched as the man descended on his knees, lingering upon you until he looked down, revealing your white-clad legs the further you raised your gown. You stopped before the ends, holding onto your skirts and petticoats as if your life depended on it.

Hyunjin’s gaze did not waver as his hand raised forward, finding themselves upon the bow at the top of the stockings as the other gently held your ankle. Untying the ribbon, he hooked his fingers under the tight fabric, your skin brushing against his knuckles. Slowly, he pulled down the stocking, uncovering your skin before him under the dim lamp light. When it bunched up, his hand at your ankle stretched the ends of fabric, sliding the stocking right off. 

Discarding it behind him, he repeated the unveiling on the other leg. He noticed your skin heating underneath his touch, and he dared not expose his growing delight. 

Once the other half slid off, joining its partner, a hand raised in front of you. You stared at him in dazed confusion, and his fingers curled, save for the pointer directed at your present. 

“The stockings, darling.”

The endearment had you falling short — his caresses on your shin brought you back to consciousness, your hand beyond your control as it handed the gift to him. Taking it, he put one of them beside him, bunching the other with his hands till he directed the entrance to your foot on his lap.

Slipping them on, he worked his way upon your heel; his hands were slow, fingers softer than the silk beginning to cover your leg. Every fleeting touch had small shockwaves coursing up your body, as if it was the first time he laid his hands on you. How were you so unaccustomed to his caresses still?

Maybe because he knew how to agonise you. 

When reaching above your knee, he brought the ends of the stocking to your thigh. His fingers fell to the ribbon dangling from the underside and, with the utmost care, began to tie the two pieces together, forming a pretty red bow. 

As he closed the pattern, he tightened the bow, securing the fabric — snuffing out any possibility for the fabric to fall.

He then continued on the other leg, gaze flickering from your legs to your face. He caught every laboured breath you released, every flutter of your eyes slipping you in and out of a daze. His fingers were slower still, as if he never wanted this to stop. The stockings were like a second skin, adding a lustre to your legs the more he covered you with it. 

Sliding over your knee for the last time, he held onto the blood-coloured ribbons. Fingers skimming against silk-stained skin, he tied another perfect bow, tightening it at the ends. 

All done.

His gaze lingered on the bows, the sliver of skin past your thighs. His hands too, refused to leave your legs.

It was then his eyes flicked upward — right into yours. 

You caught every swirl of desire residing inside. 

Every little detail etched on his face was stained with lustful anguish, suppressed hunger of things you dared not imagine. You held onto your skirts with more force, afraid you would lose strength in your hands. 

Hyunjin’s hands, however, had no such troubles.

For they began to carry out his wishes — they slid upwards, past the stockings and upon your upper thighs, spreading them enough to slip himself between your legs. This alone had you near crumbling for him, but his eyes asked for more. Even with the dim light, you had never seen a man so beautiful in agony. 

You wondered whether he was going to say anything. Silence was a giver of many answers, but the questions you held could only be answered by his lulling whispers. Despite protest, you willed your hands beside you, clutching the sheets, waiting for him to tear your soul in pieces. 

Finally, the Duke of Hastings parted his mouth.

“One word, angel.”

He squeezed your thighs softly. 

“One word, and I will never torment you with my presence again.”

A bated breath escaped you.

It was much too late for that. Hyunjin had already tormented you, had done so ever since your fateful realisation, and you knew he would do so for the rest of your life. It would hardly matter whether he was oceans apart or a hair’s breadth close — him, and everything he represented, was complete and utter affliction.

Such a shame that he was a torment you would sacrifice everything to be around every day. Such a horrible, horrible shame that Hwang Hyunjin was a presence you loved more than you could let on.

Hence was the reason you did not answer him with words. What you wished to say was much too vulnerable.

No, you answered him in actions — replied with your hands raising to clasp his face, leaning down to envelope your lips with his. 

You were surprised to hear a pained moan leave his mouth, and you realised that was the sound of pure, heart-breaking relief. Instantly his hands travelled further as he kissed you back with twice the fervour, hands sliding to grip your waist. Pulling you to him, he erased any distance between you, delving deeper into your mouth. He shuddered at how he went so long without your tongue swirling along with his, like parting from a lost companion.

Fingers sliding to his neck, you welcomed his enthusiasm, his desperation which heightened with every searing touch, every soft bite of his teeth against your lips. He broke away, peppering open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, eliciting the sweetest whining from you. 

“...missed you,” he murmured on your skin, sending chills down your body as he kissed the edges of your dress's neckline. “I...missed you so much.”

“Hyunjin—” you began, wanting to say that you yearned for him, but the words on your tongue faded when his fingers bunched up the skirts of your gown, hitching it higher until the midnight stockings were back in view — he did not stop there, pushing the fabric further till it bunched at your waist, along with the petticoats. His hurried hands pulled down your underthings, sliding them right off your legs, discarding them behind them.

Seeing your cunt glistening in the lamplight nearly broke him.

“I—God,” he breathed out, hands spreading your legs apart. An aching whine escaped you at the action, the cool night air caressing your inner thighs. “Angel, tell me...we do not have to do this.” He glanced up at you, and the madness residing in his eyes infected your soul. 

Maybe madness was the only reason you damned the consequences.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Hyunjin licked his lips before blessing you with his closure.

The first stripe across your slit set you on fire. 

A soft groan through your mouth at the familiar sensation, the overbearing feeling of being ascended far away from this obscure bedroom. He had always worked wonders, but this time, the languor had faded, desire hardening his tongue against your folds. He pulled on your legs, sending his face further into your cunt, and you yelped at the ferocity of his actions. 

There was no denying it — the man had grown frantic without you.

Swiping in the arousal coating along your slit, a satisfied hum escaped him as he travelled upwards, your seething more encouragement. He struck gold as he found your clit, circling his tongue along the bud, rendering you helpless as you moaned without shame. You cared little if the guests heard you beyond the door, your husband making it too hard to contain yourself.

Perhaps you would have survived his treatment if he did not leave one of his hands upon your leg, trailing up your thigh. He slipped in not one, but two fingers straight inside, and your voice raised an octave — the gradual rhythm of his digits had that overflowing feeling creeping over you all over again. Your grip on his half-ponytail tightened, pleading for him to give you mercy, but the man was relentless, never opting for a break in his devouring.

“Damn it, please—” you grated out, instinctively rolling your hips against his face. The edge of the bed seemed more like the edge of the world. “Wh-whatever you do—”

You did not finish as Hyunjin squeezed your thigh, and you knew then in your dazed mind — a certainty that he understood. 

Within moments his pace quickened, fuelling the spark of nerves which swirled in your gut, threatening to overtake you. Teething your clit softly, then swirling his tongue along, you knew that if he carried on, he would break you on this bed. Something within you felt as if that was his was his very purpose.

Why the thought thrilled you, you would never know.

His rapid fingers and sensual tongue working harmoniously finally got through to you, as, with a whimpering cry, you came all over him, closing your eyes as spots of white stained your mind. You felt his ministrations slow, a small kiss gifted upon your sensitive clit before his lips pulled away. Other hand brushing across your leg, he soothed you from the high you experienced, whispers of his lilting voice perking you from your stupor.

“Hyunjin?” you quietly called, gazing at his lust-struck face. He did not look away as he brought the finger to his lips, sucking away at your residue.

You did not think you could ever get used to this image.

“Yes, angel?” he rasped out, straightening on his knees so his head nearly levelled with yours.

Catching the implications within your eyes, his own widened slightly.

“More?” he let himself wonder, and when you nodded much too desperately, he realised he had done it. 

All he needed was for you to voice it.

“Oh, my sweet little darling,” he whispered, taking one of your gloved hands. Slowly, he slid off the long gloves, repeating the same for the other. “This time, I cannot let you off.

His hands then clasped yours. “This time...I need you to say what you want for me.”

The declaration would have had you closing your legs in embarrassment if your husband was not between them. Not even embarrassment for what he said but...the idea of you wanting to completely oblige it.

Look at you — a few months ago, you possessed not a single inclination of what he suggested; what he asked for, what he so direly wanted you to say. The woman before this one would have rather buried herself under the earth than admit such desire for a man.

The Duke of Hastings, though, brought her out from her underground retreat, and revealed to her all that she was capable of. He showed her what everyone was so afraid to even talk about, and made you addicted to what was forbidden.

A dire shame you wanted Hyunjin to keep you intoxicated for the rest of your life.

You faced him once and for all. Asked him for the one thing which you never thought imaginable.

“Show me...all of it.”

Your hands travelled to his shoulders, keeping him close.

“Show me everything.”

If there was a way to bottle this moment and hang it on the walls of his heart, Hyunjin would have jumped at the chance.

Had he defiled you, after so long? Had he slipped his dirty fantasies into your mind, tainted you with his infatuation?

The answers to his questions were found upon your lips. He collided his own against yours as he gathered you up in his arms, standing up and taking you with him.

Your legs would have given way if we’re not for him keeping his grip — a grip which wandered upwards, catching the little metal hooks of your dress. He thrust his tongue inside your mouth, and the harsh frenzy delighted you, welcoming all of it as you opened for him wider. A shuddered breath escaped you at the hooks being undone by his hands, one by one till you felt your gown loosen.

At the last hook, Hyunjin pulled the sleeves off your arms, and the dress fell to the floor, leaving you with your corset and petticoats. You were caught off guard when he swivelled you around, you feeling the tugs of lace being unravelled with each pull of his fingers. The kisses did not cease, being rewarded at the crook of your neck. Each caress of his lips sent shivers down your spine — more so when he eased off the corset from your body, tugging off your petticoats along with it. 

All that was left was a thin, loose chemise, everything shown clearly beneath the white veil of its fabric. The man turned you to face him again, and his gaze turned molten at the sight that welcomed him. Taking your lips in his, he ripped off his own attire — the long coat, waistcoats, every piece from the waist up being discarded. He had to break away for a moment to take his shirt off, and you caught the sight of his lean figure, turned golden in the light. 

You could not help reaching out, running your curious fingers against his skin, soft and warm beneath your touch. He dared not speak, fearing you would take away your hand, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Tonight, you did not want distance — and neither did he.

Kissing you again, he pulled the lace in front of your chemise, loosening the attire until, with wandering hands, he dropped the last layer you upheld. Slowly, never leaving your lips, he backed you against the bed, holding you steady as he laid you upon the sheets. You never let go of him, aching to take all of him in your mouth, taste his very soul till it was the only thing that remained on your tongue. 

“Fuck—” a curse escaped him as he broke away, catching the swelling of your lips. His gaze trailed downwards, upon your breasts which perked at the sight. “You’re so—so beautiful, I—”

Trails of open-mouthed kisses attacked you after, falling upon your breasts where Hyunjin began swiping his tongue along the nipple. The foreign wave of pleasure had you ripping out the most atrocious moan, caring less if the whole manor were to hear. 

While his tongue played with you, his fingers worked at his trousers, unbuckling his belt as he peeled off the clothing, tossing it to the ever growing pile. You craned your head forward, glancing at the bulge near bursting from his underwear. A quivering sigh escaped you, rendering louder by the quickening of his actions.

Getting rid of his underwear, his cock sprung free, and you were surprised you had not passed out from the mere sight, red and angry and too bloody big. You could not stop staring, hard to believe that a man could possess such...such substantial anatomy.

“Like what you see, angel?” Your husband mused, leaving his place upon your nipple. Flustered, you tried to look away, but it was no use, when the man caught your chin with his fingers. “I’m surprised you can be shy even now.”

That did not help with your situation, causing you to heat drastically beneath his touch. Chuckling, he dropped a little kiss upon your nose before resting his forehead against yours. 

Grasping his cock, he levelled it against your leaking cunt, the head teasing your folds. Even the small action had you seething, the warm residue sending shockwaves across your body. You held onto his neck, fearing you would lose yourself if you dared not hold onto him.

His midnight eyes turned to yours, noses brushing. “This may hurt for a second, ____,” he confessed, voice barely a murmur. “But I promise I will make that second up to you.”

Nodding slightly, you watched only him as his gaze travelled downwards. Fear threatened to take over, but one look at your husband, and it all faded.

With a final prayer to the heavens, Hyunjin began his descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his cock slid into your cunt. A heightened whine bubbled up to your throat, and you let it free with each inch that entered, terrified that this man could break you with what he slipped inside you. Your walls tightened with its entrance, and the more you voiced out the more he tended, peppering sweet kisses upon your cheeks.

You did not know how long it was till he stopped, letting you adjust to him inside you. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets, yet your husband was a huge comfort, circling smooth strokes upon your hip with his thumb, holding your face as he held the universe in his hands.

Breathing deeply, he glanced at you — a nod was your response to his consoling gaze, knowing what he meant.

With that, the duke began to pull out.

He was slow, just as he was when he first entered you. He was gradual, languid, and the terror that haunted you was replaced with a new, different kind of high. 

You had never felt something so pleasurable.

You revealed your surprise to Hyunjin, stare glistening at the foreign sensation — your entire body was up in the clouds, relishing the slow withdrawal and the skill he brought in the bedroom. You were so sure that he was terrified too, scared of ruining this, but all you could feel was pure, unadulterated delight.

When the head reached the beginning of your folds once again, you thought that this was it — there was no more to be done, and your contentment was short-lived.

However, your husband surprised you as he slid inside you once again. 

This time, there was a slight increase of pace, and it kept getting better, your feelings heightening with each passing second as he dipped further into you. He was so unbelievably good, knowing just how to make you whimper — God, his gaze was enough to undo you, ablaze with all the hellfire from the underworld. The devil worked hard, but Hyunjin worked overtime, bottoming out into you once more.

From that point on, your bodies began to move in sync, you giddily moving your hips along with his, aching to have him inside the whole time. Your hands carded through his velvety locks, taking out the ribbons so his hair fell all about him, curtailing his face as he rocked back and forth upon you. By God, he was so exquisite, something straight out of an artist movement, despite the sweat beading down his forehead, despite the parted mouth, the slight panting.

“H-Hyunjin—” you began, interrupted by another sharp moan from his efforts. “Hyunjin, I think I’m close—”

This time, you were interrupted by his lips upon your neck, teething love bites everywhere upon your skin. He hummed against you at your warning, and thrusted his cock into you. The head reached a certain spot which had you seeing seventh heaven, seeing truth and peace and everything in between, because fuck, he knew where to strike.

You did not know how long it had been till you felt yourself dizzying, the feeling in your lower abdomen warning you of its leash snapping. Hyunjin, aware that you were close, only brought his fingers to your clit, prodding at the bud till tears stung your eyes. 

“I...fuck, angel—!” He gasped between thrusts, pressing sloppy kisses upon your lips. “Look at you, all...all messed up from my cock!”

Heightened wailing was your response, broken murmurs being spewed from your lips. Hastily the man shook his head, revelling in your utter ruination.

“Ah—! Come on now!” he cooed in his husky rasp, holding onto your head. “Say it for me, darling.”

A part of you did not think you could manage, but you had to if it meant he would bring you relief. The duke may have been the love of your life, but he was still, undoubtedly, a smug bastard. 

Despite that, you could not believe how easily you resorted to begging. 

“Please, Hyunjin!” You pleaded in half-pants, the tears spilling when he delved into that one particular spot again. “Make me do—whatever the hell I do, damn it!”

Huffing out a small laugh, the man held onto you a little tighter, retaining his grin. “Oh, ____,” he said, and the next words slipped out in his haze of lust, not realising he had revealed something of terrible importance.

After planting another disheveled kiss, he murmured, “You are so lucky that I love you.”

You did not have time for this declaration to settle before your husband obliged you in the best possible way; his thrusting turned erratic, fast and uneven, and the increased pace of his fingers was too much, all at once.

You had no choice but to let out a cry as you spilled onto him — some escaped from your walls and stained the sheets, whimpering breaths keeping you alive. His ministrations slowed as well, fingers stopping at your clit. 

Watching you undo yourself for him was certainly the last straw for him — for the first time he released into you, grunting at the impact. Parts of his orgasm, too, sullied the sheets, but that was the least of his concerns, as he held onto you for dear life, nearly shattering his entire self upon you.

Pulling out of you, he collapsed beside you on the bed, his deep breaths breaking the silence. You, too, panted for a while, gazing up at the dark ceiling. 

You expected your first thought to be utter delight at your first time. You had finally done what no one in polite society ever told you about, and it was so wonderful that you doubt anyone would have shared in your fortune. 

However, your mind was occupied with another matter entirely.

You are lucky that I love you.

You closed your eyes. 

Hyunjin loved you. Hwang Hyunjin, your best friend and husband, loved you when you thought it impossible.

Something within you then wondered if it was too good to be true.

“____?”

Noticing your name, you turned, finding the very man staring at you — in a way which would have your theories proven true. You did not know about yourself, but seeing him before you, black locks disheveled, skin glistening from sweat, you could not deny that anyone would fall for him if they saw him now. 

You tried to push your emotions past you, blinking back a bit of fatigue. “Yes?”

“Tell me what goes on in that mind of yours.” Turning over, he propped his arm, holding his head in his hand. “Are you alright?”

Perhaps you should have opted for a vague yes, but something in you did not want to beat around the bush anymore. You wished to tell him your truth.

“I was wondering about what you said,” you began, reflecting his position. 

“I have said many things, darling,” the man drawled. “What do you specifically mean?”

“Well…” you tried to avoid his gaze, but you knew by now that evading Hyunjin was useless. “Before I...you know…”

“Know what?” He mused, which had you rolling your eyes. 

“You know what I mean!” Sighing, you continued, constantly looking at his features. “Well, just before that, you said something to me...is it true?”

Silence fell on the room as your husband pondered at your question. His eyebrows raised, and you realised that he had figured it out.

“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “I know exactly what you speak of.”

You waited for his response, suddenly aware of how naked you were in this bedroom. Dread curled at your stomach, and you debated grabbing the sheets and sneaking out of the manor. 

That is when Hyunjin gave you his answer. Gave it to you as he took your hand in both of his, pinning you with a stare he reserved only for you.

“They are the truest words I have spoken.”

He leaned into you, and your heart fluttered, much more dramatically now because of what he revealed.

A soul-saving smile adorned his lips. “Despite our circumstances, it was inevitable that I would fall, and I thank the heavens that I did. I love you, ____, even if you cannot return the feeling. I love you as the friend I never had.

“I love you because you are the most inspirational woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet.” 

When he finished, you wondered whether you had the words to respond to a confession as heart-wrenching as the one your husband blessed you with. Tears pricked the corners of your vision, and you leaned into his hands which cupped your face.

Brushing his lips against yours, you willingly accepted, giving him all the affection you garnered within you for so long. The tears trailed down your cheeks, and you had to pull away, hands curling at his locks.

“I-I…” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hyunjin, I-I love you so much—”

The man’s heart burst from his chest.

His rashness got the better of him, interrupting you with a searing kiss as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip. 

Never in his lust-hazed mind did he foresee you reciprocating his affection.

He was ready to spend eternity in a one-sided relationship. He was ready to stomach the melancholy you brought if you were to fall for another, or if you simply never loved at all, blankly living your life without any form of affection to give.

But…to have you fall for him. 

What he said to you was wrong.

You were not lucky that he loved you.

He was lucky that you loved him. 

So the Duke of Hastings, pulling the clean sheets upwards, showed you how lucky he was, deepening the kiss and you offering all of you again, moving your lips along with his. 

And in this night, the two of you made another revelation — that perhaps reality was not the villain in the both of yours tales after all. 

THE DAYS AFTER THE BALL WERE NOTHING BUT EUPHORIA.

You wondered whether it was all a dream, with the happiness that followed without any strings attached. 

The passionate endeavours between the two of you did not stop at Seungmin’s manor — hands wandered in the carriage back home, and the moment you stepped at Lansdowne, Hyunjin backed you against the wall and ripped your dress right off, never wanting to stop ravishing you. You did not stop him, did not want to stop him, when you waited so long for him to engulf you without any barriers. By the time you both stopped in the shy hours of dawn, you had been drained of all physical strength, but filled with mental joy.

You fell in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and had the fortune of this love reciprocated. 

Sometimes, you wondered if it was all a dream — a twisted, subliminal illusion, tricking you into believing that marital life is what every writer writes of in the end, the solution filled with flowers and sweet kisses. You never thought, even in your wildest dreams, that you could achieve such bliss with another. 

Then, you would wake up with your husband’s arms around you, and finally understand. Finally comprehend what it meant, to never stray from a soul connected with yours. 

The weeks after also brought the finishing of your novel, your childhood dream all polished in your hands as you took it to the most famous publishers in town. You had fears of the reactions, as what you wrote during certain parts of the novel was borderline scandalous, but the men at the publishing house enjoyed the first few chapters you showed them, and asked for more on the next visit.

You were overjoyed by their reaction, but then doubt entered your mind at once — what if they were only agreeable to your writing because of your position? 

The thought soured your happiness. You did not want to be a writer because of your position in society, but because of your skill. There may have been thousands of other women with talents surpassing yours, but would never be able to achieve even the interest of a publisher. 

Hyunjin was the first to know of your news, and the worries which accompanied it. He listened to you on your second, third visits, scoffing at your disbelief of your turn of events. It was ridiculous in his mind how ardently you doubted yourself, waving off the publishers’ interests in your novel as sheer luck, or your station as the Duchess of Hastings. He assured you many a time, that your flair in creating stories surpassed no man or woman living in London. 

He knew those publishers well — well enough to know that they had never released a novel written by a woman, no matter how influential she may have been. Knowing you had managed to enter consideration for publishing was a feat in itself. The duke had absolutely no doubt that he would see your works in the hands of every person who knew how to read.

What you did not expect, however, was the request from the publishers to have your novel anonymously published. You demanded a reason, and they provided a whole list — women writing was only considered a secondary activity, and if word were to reach the city of a Duchess writing books instead of tending to her family, then it would cause an outrage. You could not believe your ears, despite a small part of you expecting this setback. 

You wanted your name on the book. 

Confiding in your husband once more, you told him of the condition, angrily pacing back and forth in your home. “It is simply...awful!” you spat, locking your hands behind your back, turning the room once more. Hyunjin watched you with a concerned look passing over his features as he looked up from his book. “Why should I hide my identity? I am proud of what I wrote, damn it!”

The man let out a sigh. “I think you should keep the name anonymous.”

That had you pausing. “I beg your pardon?” you demanded, thundering over to him. “Are you saying I conform to their conditions?”

“I am not suggesting it because of their reasoning. I know they are still too ashamed to try publishing a woman’s creation.” 

Closing his book, he set it to the side table. “My love, there is nothing that brings me more joy than seeing you accomplish your dreams. I want more than anything to boast of your mind, and the writings it invents. However,” he continued, “I fear when the public sees your name printed on the novel, a controversial one at that, and see it that they attack you.”

“But that does not matter to me,” you responded, hands on your hips. “In fact, I welcome their criticism! Let me see what poppycock they want to say of my hard work.”

Hyunjin clamped his lips together, trying to hide a smile. “I am happy you do not care for such people, but it would damage your future writings. It would damage your future.”

When you frowned at him, he held out his hands. You closed the distance, settling upon his lap, sliding your arms around his shoulders, while he did the same around your waist. “Tell me, angel, do you wish to write after this?”

“Of course.”

“Well, see it like this,” he began. “Let us say you publish the novel anonymously. It would be in instant circulation, and everyone would read it, no matter who they are. Why? Because your identity is hidden. There would be no bias against you.”

“So?” you asked, and Hyunjin gave you a look. “Okay, okay, continue!”

“As I was saying,” he carried on, “This would not only help you gain an initial audience, but, if you do wish to reveal yourself after that, then it would be perfect. You would have not only shown the public that a woman had written such a brilliant novel, but anyone who would have had previous biases would either conform to reading your writing, or be furious that they had been tricked into reading a woman’s novel.” He then added, smirking, “Which, in my opinion, would be a very amusing situation to witness.” 

You thought over what he said, mind in slight conflict. “In the end, though, it is your choice,” he reassured you. “Whatever you do, you have my undeterred support.”

The little addition had you smiling. “You make valid points,” you admitted, which had the man releasing a chuckle.

“You say that as if I have no intelligence,” he jeered, pulling you closer. “You will be thanking me when all of this goes as I predicted.”

“Don’t push it,” you countered. “We both know you have been proved wrong many times.”

“Hmmm…” he trailed off, leaning in, brushing his lips upon your skin. “At least I know I am right about one thing.”

“Oh?” Your head began to swim as he trailed a few lingering kisses up your neck. “And...and what would that be?”

He did not answer you — only offered an alluring smile before pressing his lips against yours. A soft hum left you as he moved his mouth against yours, slow and languid, teasing his tongue against the seams. 

You would have offered yourself right then and there if he had not broken away, drumming his fingers against your waist. The smile darkened as he gave you his reply.

“You cannot resist me, angel.” 

That, no matter how much it worked against your favour, was an undoubted fact.

After this though, you made your decision to keep anonymous, letting the publishers know of your change of heart. You knew that what Hyunjin said made sense, and, if your novel does receive recognition, then revealing yourself would create a huge statement in London society, positive or not. With this in mind, brought the final edited drafts of your work, and received information of the commissions and percentages taken by the publishing house.

Because the release of your novel was to take some time, you had some freedom with your everyday activities, which were once taken up by the constant editing. The duke, luckily, had begun to employ much more able men in his authority, and so his work was decreased significantly, to the point where he had days to spend with you alone.

During that waiting period, he suggested the two of you retreat to Hemingford, where you both spent your honeymoon. Your smile never left as you jumped at the idea, the man in turn making arrangements for the earliest carriage out of the city. 

Within two days, you were welcomed by the little manor, nestled in the gifts of nature. You found yourself warming to the whole place once more, memories of the past months returning in a flash. Images of the many groves of trees, small network of rivers and a special presence, soothed you in every part you walked through. You nearly forgot how dear Hemingford was to you in the chaos of city life, engulfing its regal, almost mystical atmosphere. A part of you hoped that the book would take forever to be published, so you could never leave the natural retreat Hyunjin’s ancestors had created.

The man himself was glad he opted to take you to the manor — he saw your nerves slowly taking over in London, and knew that the more you stayed in Lansdowne, the more the wait was going to eat you alive. Aware of your attachment towards this place, he made it his personal mission to bring you here, and try to provide you with a little peace. When he caught that certain smile of yours when your eyes fell on the manor and the gardens around it, he felt half his worries melting away in the spring air.

He hated seeing you so unnerved. 

After a few days resting in paradise, the situation was changed for the better. You, breathing in the very earth beneath your feet, observing the trees curved over you like a concerned parent, thought that you could stay here forever. Receiving a letter from the publishers’ of the near completion of copies made only brightened your spirits, and you sighed out into nature.

“Is something the matter?”

Perking up, you saw Hyunjin, who walked over from behind you. 

“Ah...not much,” you said, watching him settle beside you on the bench you sat upon, folding one dark-clad leg over the other. In his hands possessed a book of deep-shaded red, which he held with great care. “Thinking about the letter today.”

“I see.” His eyes wandered down to his fingers. “Actually, I do have something for you, relating to the subject.”

“Oh?” You followed his trail. “Does this book have something to do with it?”

“However did you figure that out?” He drawled, but then he faced you properly, unfolding his leg. “Here.”

You took the possession, eyes on him. “Whose book is it?”

A knowing smile escaped his lips. “Look at the front, angel.”

Curious, you obliged, checking the title. 

You completely stilled. 

Written on the front was the name of your novel. 

“Oh my God,” you got out, holding it with both hands, opening it to the pages. There it all was, inscripted upon the hundreds of pieces of paper.

Your writing.

Your sleepless nights, your labour, your every ounce of strength, tied together by paper and leather and string. 

Rushing, you opened to a random section of the novel, smile widening at the typewriter’s neat, cleaner version of your manic scribbles. The dialogue, the description of each environment — it was there before you, but this time it was not in your head, whirling indefinitely without a place to explain itself.

It was all on paper — in your very hands.

“H-Hyunjin,” you stammered out, not realising your heart was becoming a little too heavy. “Oh my God—where did you get this? Have they—they have begun to sell copies already?”

“Oh Lord,” your husband murmured, hands on your shoulders. “No, no, my love, this was of my own doing.”

When he caught the confused expression upon your aghast face, he explained further. “Before we left for London, I paid a visit to the publishers’, who had started typing up copies of your book. I requested the first copy made be given to me.”

His thumbs began to stroke soothing circles onto your skin. “I know you would have wanted to hold it in your hands before anyone else.”

Heavens above. He truly knew you so well.

You focused back on the book, closing it as you ran your fingers over the leather cover. “I…”

“No need,” he said, giving you an amused grin. “I already know I am the best husband one could ask for.”

He expected his banter to be returned, but you responded to him with a heart-shattering smile.

Holding out the book, you propped it in his hands. “I want you to have it, Hyunjin.”

This time, it was his turn to be confused. “Am I missing the joke here?”

You held his gaze, albeit with much difficulty. “I promised you something once, quite a long time ago. All my firsts are yours.” 

Your hand reached out, brushing against his. “This is my first novel. My most prized possession.” A pause, before holding that state with all your might. “I would want nothing more than for you to keep it.”

The duke used his every ounce of strength not to cry upon the bench. “Well then…” he began, taking the book from you. He turned to the front page, which was blank, save for the title name again, and the written anonymously typed onto its surface. “Well, ____, you must sign it for me!”

A laugh escaped you at that. “An autograph?” You jested, spluttering further when the man brought out his fountain pen, opening the cap. “I suppose with this enthusiasm, I shall throw in a little message.”

Hyunjin slapped a hand to his chest, brows raising in mock surprise. “By God, you spoil me!”

“Give it here!” You retorted, taking the pen and book once more as you found the landing page. 

You pondered for a few minutes on what to write, earning a few hurry ups! and the occasional she does not love me after all, the latter greatly exaggerated. Berating him, you finally thought of the words, arriving straight from the heart. 

Finishing off, you gave the novel back. “Let us see what faux sweetening you have made for me,” he chortled, eyes lowering to the text.

His grin began to fade as he read the message in his mind.

TO THE MAN WHO WAS MY FIRST FRIEND, MY FIRST KISS, AND NOW MY FIRST LOVE.

HERE’S TO MANY MORE FIRSTS WITH YOU. I KNOW THEY WILL ALL LAST. 

I LOVE YOU. 

Hyunjin knew that the sting in his eyes was not the spring breeze.

Slowly, he looked up, catching you staring at him with a smile—loving smile upon your face. A shuddered breath left his lips, unable to form the words.

“Oh no,” you began, jesting despite tears welling up in your own eyes. “It seems the duke believes in my faux sweetening after all.”

A coughed laugh left him at that, trying to clamp his lips together from smiling, but his emotions refused him to suppress himself. His eyes crescented, adding to his near teary grin. Propping the book to the side, he offered his familiar stare, laced with every fibre of affection.

“Come here.”

You jumped at the command, leaning closer as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you to him. He moulded his lips against yours, and you readily accepted him, offering yourself up entirely for him — as if you were not completely his by your own choice.

The slight madness laced upon his mouth had you whining onto him, taking in the entirety of his affection as you opened up to him. Your request was teased upon with his tongue, sliding along your bottom lip, but the man pulled away, panted breaths fanning your mouth.

He pressed his forehead against yours, fingers holding onto your face as if letting go would cause you to stray. “I…” he let out a deep, trembling breath. “I love you, ____. So much.”

Your heart would never tire of the declaration. “I love you too, Hyunjin.”

And as he claimed your lips once more, you wondered whether you had finally achieved what every work of literature praised in the most elevated of languages. 

Still, at least you knew this — that once there was a duke who you promised all your firsts to, and had somehow found his way into your heart. 

There was once a woman, who refused to believe in love for herself, only for this duke to convince her otherwise, by falling for her completely.

Love stories may be a mere creation of the mind, but at least, at the very least, you knew.

Your love story was real. The first which was not mere fantasy, but real and true and tangible.

You had a feeling that this first, out of all the others you shared with the Duke of Hastings, was going to last.

[ragingbookdragon]

The Best Of Us

Batfamily x M!Reader

Word Count: 3,035 Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: And here we are with a Batbrother fic! Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t an inferiority complex. Not really. He wasn’t prone to anger or any of the other symptoms listed under it—and he checked. Multiple times. But there was something about being the only non-vigilante in his family of vigilantes that made him feel inadequate compared to the rest. Bruce had the Justice League, Dick and Jason had their own fantastic groups that saved the day, and Tim and Damian were still in school, but even they had their groups too. Hell, even Alfred still had contacts from his days in MI-5. And yet, he had none of the skills his brothers or father had, no extensive martial arts training, master detective skills, or weapon mastery. He was completely normal—or maybe abnormal in this case. And on some level, he resented that he couldn’t be like his family—maybe he did have an inferiority complex.

***

The greatest thing in (Y/N)’s mind about still being allowed to live at home was that no matter what, there was always food around to eat—Alfred saw to it that every growing man in the house had enough to eat—that being said, their grocery bills were outrageouslyexpensive.

He balanced his tablet in one hand, the other hand adjusting the tie around his neck as he stepped into the kitchen, quick to raise the tablet in time to avoid whacking his youngest brother in the head.

“Morning,” he greeted, taking his seat at the table, just after Jason’s. A chorus of tired, ‘mornings’ came back at him and he quirked an eyebrow. “Wow, loving the enthusiasm this morning, guys.”

Jason snorted and propped his chin on his palm, watching (Y/N) for a moment. “I seriously don’t understand how you’re always so chipper in the morning.”

He huffed a laugh and took a sip of the coffee that Alfred set down. “Someone has to be the ray of sunshine in this group of gray clouds.” (Y/N) cast a glance at Dick who was shoveling eggs into his mouth. “And it seems like our eldest is busy feeding his bottomless pit.” Dick was fast to shoot him a glare, that he returned with a smile.

Just then, Tim trudged into the kitchen in an oversized hoodie and plopped down in his seat, immediately shoving the plate in front of him to drop his head onto the table.

“Jesus Christ, you guys,” (Y/N) sighed, flicking at his tablet for a moment. “You’ve seriously gotta take a day off to recuperate.”

“What do you think we do during the day?” Dick retorted, taking a swig of milk.

“Okay I think you’re confusing the entire day with the first half,” he reasoned. “When I say take a day off, I mean the whole twenty-four hours.” He glanced at everyone, and the only person who seemed to not be tired was Alfred, and that’s partly because (Y/N) believed he was immortal. “You guys are gonna run yourselves into the ground,” he said. “I just don’t think—”

“We know what we are doing, (Y/N),” Damian interrupted with a glare. “We know our limits better than you do.”

He let out a sigh and shook his head. This conversation had happened many times before and it wasn’t anything new.

“I’m not saying I know them better than you Damian, I’m simply saying that you guys should take a day to relax so that something doesn’t happen on the job that you can’t control.”

(Y/N) glanced at his father. “Dad, c’mon, you know I’ve got a point.”

Bruce hummed and flipped the page of the newspaper. “So does Damian.” He met (Y/N)’s eyes and nodded. “You don’t have to worry so much, (Y/N). We know what we can handle.”

He stared at Bruce for a moment then scowled. “I don’t even know why I bother,” he muttered, and Damian was fast to chase his comment.

“I don’t know why you bother either. You’ve never once experienced what we do every night.”

(Y/N) met his youngest sibling’s glare. “Just because I don’t stick my neck out for each person in this city night after night doesn’t mean that I don’t know what it’s like to be exhausted.”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you know what it’s like to be exhausted from blood loss because you’ve been stabbed or shot? Or to be exhausted from saving the lives of innocent people? You do?”

“I—” (Y/N)’s mouth opened, then he snapped it shut and looked away with a darkened expression, tasting something sour in his mouth. “No, I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought,” Damian finalized, and in the wake of the uncomfortable tension, a cellphone went off.

Everyone started looking for theirs, but (Y/N) muttered, “It’s mine.”

He picked it up and put on a cheerful voice. “Good morning Angela…yes, I just got the floor plan…” he tapped at the screen on his tablet. “Do me a favor and move the people from table eight to table three. Mr. Robinson is better friends with Mrs. Grace and will certainly give us a warmer atmosphere in that area.”

(Y/N) paused and listened, then he stood from the table and pushed his chair in. “Let me get to the office and we can situate the rest of the guests for tonight…alright, see you soon. Bye.”

He pulled the phone from his ear and ended the call, then took the black backpack that Alfred was holding to him. “Thanks Alfred.”

“Of course, Master (Y/N). Have a pleasant day at work.”

He huffed a laugh, but it was anything but amused. “I have to give a speech tonight in front of the entire company and three different magazines.” He glanced at Bruce. “Think you’ll be able to attend tonight? It’d mean a lot to me.” Bruce grunted, his way of telling (Y/N) that he’d try, but to not hope for a miracle.

It was fine, he was used to parentless ceremonies and events. He cleared his throat and shrugged on the backpack, making his way to the garage door.

“See you guys later.”

***

He’d given a few speeches in his short twenty-four years, and while he’d never say he was an expert on public speaking, he did know his way around a podium. That being said, every time he had to do a speech, he felt like vomiting—nerves he chocked it up to.

(Y/N) cast a glance around the packed ballroom, quietly groaning at the massive amount of people. His own table was empty, save for Angela and thank god for him, Lucius. He couldn’t help but frown at the name tags sitting in front of the empty seats.

“Wondering where the rest of the gang is?”

He met Lucius’ eyes and gave a halfhearted smile. “I’d like to think they took my advice and took the night off but…something tells me that the night called to them.” His lips pulled downwards. “I’m not going to act like this is a surprise, Lucius. I couldn’t even get them to show up for my university graduation.”

(Y/N) smiled and stood up, grabbing the notecards beside him. “What makes you think I could get them to show up to this?” He left the table and moved to the side of the stage, waiting for his name to be called. His fingers briefly shifted to his chest, feeling his heart fluttering beneath chest, nerves causing his breathing to come in short bursts. (Y/N) shut his eyes and took a deep breath, letting a pleasant smile cross his face as the presenter called his name, and walked up the steps.

The bright flash of photography momentarily blinded him, but he smiled through it. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us tonight at the Centennial Inside Alliance Award Ceremony.” He flashed everyone a million-watt smile. “My name is (Y/N) Wayne, and as many of you know, I am a senior editor for Inside Alliance. It is my pleasure tonight to recognize Inside Alliance’s top writer for the year.”

(Y/N) glanced around the room, making sure to catch the eyes of the hundreds of guests.

“Inside Alliance was created on August fourteenth, nineteen-twenty by a group of immigrant mothers and fathers who wanted to bring knowledge of their homes and cultures to the rest of world. Some of those countries being Germany, Romania, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Israel, and many, many others.”

“The production of their valuable time and extensive care created one of the greatest magazines that is still in business today, that brings attention to the worldwide issues that many groups face, while still connecting to their roots of educating the public on cultures and groups.”

He smiled. “It is with my upmost honor that I congratulate and introduce Miss Flora Janaliyeva, one of our newest and greatest writers that has joined Inside Alliance, and the winner of tonight’s Inside Alliance Award.”

(Y/N) turned to the side and grinned at Flora as she ascended the stairs. Her long black hair was braided down the length of her back and she wore a bright and floral-patterned gown. She reached (Y/N) and he reached with his right, shaking her hand, and handed her the glass award with the other.

“Miss Janaliyeva, it is with honor and congratulations that I give you this award for your excellent talent and recognition of ability from Inside Alliance.”

She smiled brightly and accepted the award. “Thank you, Mister Wayne, the honor is mine.” He nodded politely once more and descended the stairs as she began her speech, quietly taking his place back at the table.

“Well done, Mister Wayne,” Lucius smiled and (Y/N) let out a deep breath.

“I’m just surprised I was able to do that without stuttering or panicking.” He glanced over, smile lowering slightly. “Lucius, are you alright?”

The older man dabbed at his forehead and nodded, though when he breathed, it sounded labored. “I’m fine,” he assured, then reached up to rub at his chest.

(Y/N) shifted. “I don’t think you’re alright Lucius.” He leaned over. “Are you having chest pain?”

“I—yes,” he grit out then met (Y/N)’s gaze. “My chest is getting—tight and I…and I—”

He started to slump over and (Y/N) shot to his feet, eyes widening with fear. “Lucius!” The yell startled the crowd and Flora, who all looked over at the two.

(Y/N) pulled the older man back and pressed his ear to his chest, listening. He pulled away and yelled, “Someone call an ambulance! I think he’s having a heart attack!”

He helped Lucius to the floor and immediately pressed his palms to the man’s chest, starting compressions. His breath came in panicked spurts and he kept looking at Lucius’ face.

“Just hand on Lucius. You’re going to be okay.” (Y/N) kept at it until the EMT’s arrived and they knelt beside them.

“Let us take over.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, too afraid that if he did, Lucius would die, but one of the EMT’s placed a hand on his shoulder while the other slide their hands underneath (Y/N)’s.

“Son, we’ll take it from here.”

(Y/N)’s arms went slack, and he let the medic pull him away, watching as they took over and started moving him onto the stretcher.

“Please, save him. He’s—he’s friends with my family I—”

The medic nodded firmly. “We’ll do all we can.”

And all (Y/N) remembered was someone ushering him into a taxi heading for the hospital.

***

The first people that arrived were Lucius’ family who were grateful for (Y/N)’s actions, but the young man could barely grimace as they disappeared into the hospital room, leaving him sitting outside, his head in his hands. Tears gathered in his eyes as he thought back to what the ER doctor told him.

***

“Mister Fox is in a stable condition, but you have to understand, Mister Wayne, his heart is very weak.”

“But—but he’ll be okay right?”

“Based on Mister Fox’s past conditions, he’s verging into heart failure. His heart is too weak to keep up with what the body needs.”

“And…and what does his body need at this point?”

“At this point? A new heart.”

***

He sucked in a breath and fought to keep the sob from escaping his throat, just as heard, “(Y/N)!”

His head shot up and he saw his father and older brothers coming down the hallway. (Y/N) clambered to his feet.

“Dad I—” he started, but cut off as he choked on a sob, and Bruce pulled him into a hug, holding (Y/N) as he sobbed. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I tried my best but—”

“Shh,” Bruce hushed, a firm, but gentle hand coming to rest at the back of his son’s neck. “You did all that you could.”

He pulled back and wiped his face. “But Lucius needs a new heart, and I don’t know what to do. I should’ve seen this coming. He hasn’t been feeling well the past few weeks and I—”

“(Y/N),” his father said firmly, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. He met Bruce’s eyes. “This wasn’t your fault.”

His libs wobbled and he whispered, “But if I were like you guys, I would’ve seen something earlier. I didn’t and now…” sighing, he added, “and now Lucius needs a new heart, or he’ll die.”

Bruce’s sigh was heavier than (Y/N)’s and it made his chest heavy. “We’ll get Lucius a new heart, (Y/N).”

He lowered his head and lamented, “I’m sorry, dad.”

His father squeezed his shoulder then lead him towards Dick and Jason. “Take (Y/N) back home for the night. I’ll stay here with Lucius’ family.”

They nodded and led their brother down the hall, arms firm across his shoulders in a comforting way. They didn’t say anything, knowing that there wasn’t much to offer, but their support was enough for (Y/N), even if he felt horrible.

***

For being the World’s Greatest Detective, his son was evidently the World Best Hider, because it took Bruce a long time to finally find (Y/N). He stepped quietly over to the form sitting on the ledge and took a seat beside him, silently gazing out at the backyard. A bottle appeared in his vision and he focused on it as the smell of whiskey reached his nose.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked but took the bottle anyway.

“Jason gave it to me earlier.” He watched Bruce take a sip. “Figured it fit the occasion.”

Bruce chuckled. “That sounds like Jason’s way of dealing with a problem.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, passing the bottle back and forth, simply enjoying the calm around the manor and night.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Bruce suddenly said.

(Y/N) sighed and set the bottle down, kicking his legs out off the roof. “Lucius said he hadn’t been feeling well recently. And I just passed it up to getting older.” He looked at his father. “If I’d actually paid attention, then I would’ve seen the symptoms.”

“Do you actually know what the symptoms of heart failure and heart attack are?”

“I…no, not really.”

“Then you couldn’t’ve known.” He looked at (Y/N). “Lucius works in my office every day. If anyone should’ve known and seen it, it should’ve been me.” Bruce shook his head. “But you did everything you could at the awards ceremony, and that saved Lucius’ life tonight. You did good.”

“I could’ve done better.” (Y/N) muttered. “I should’ve. I’m your son and I’m practically useless to the family but—”

“Woah, woah,” Bruce interrupted, brows furrowing as he asked, “What are you talking about?”

(Y/N) turned to him. “I am the least useful person in this family. I mean you and the guys are these crazy intelligent, vigilante master detectives and I’m just me.” He wiped away a tear that fell from his eye. “I can’t speak seven different languages or solve murder cases with a single strand of DNA left at the scene of a crime. Hell, I can’t even throw a punch.” He sighed heavily. “The last time I tried, I broke my hand.”

Meeting his father’s gaze, he said, “I just want to be like you guys.” He lowered his head. “I just want to be normal and not an outlier in the family.”

Bruce simply stared at him for a long moment, and while he’d never been privy to let his emotions show on his face, he let them this time—shock and shame. Shame that he didn’t see his greatest achievement suffering.

“(Y/N).”

He didn’t look up at first, but then he did. “Yes sir?”

“How long have you felt like this?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Forever?”

His father sighed. “Son, I…I never wanted you to be like us.”

He gaped at Bruce. “What?”

“(Y/N), every person in this family is driven to do what we do because of our childhoods. You’re the only one who doesn’thave any skeletons in his closet.” He stared at him. “We wish every day that we could be like you and not a day goes by that we don’t think that.”

“I…what?” he floundered, absolutely bewildered at the idea that his father and brothers wanted to be the most boring person ever. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“It is.”

“No.” (Y/N) huffed. “I’m me. I’m plain and boring, work a nine to five job me. I mean I write for a magazine for god sakes! And you guys save the world!”

Bruce chuckled. “And what we wouldn’t give to be just a bit more normal like you, son.” He shrugged. “You think you’re inferior because you’re not a vigilante, but you’re the one thing that keeps us all sane. You give us the perspective of someone who isn’t what we are. Of someone who’s completely normal.”

He reached over and placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “And being normal? Being you?” Bruce squeezed firmly. “I don’t want you to be anyone else.”

(Y/N) gazed at him, and though he felt tears in his eyes, he didn’t blink, didn’t let them fall. “I’ve only ever wanted to make you proud.”

Bruce smiled heartfully. “You do, (Y/N). Everyday. Because you’ve always been the best of us.”

[wreckofawriter]

Bubblegum

pairing: remus lupin x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: language, none fluffy

summary: you know you annoy remus but that doesn't stop you from trying to get close to him

a/n: i actually like this fic more than I thought I would... anyway I'm actually motivated again so posts should be more frequent. I plan on writing the next part for pulled apart next

    Remus has always been very good at ignoring distractions. Considering who his best friends were that was really no surprise to anyone around him. He had ignored parties and screams and fights and pretty much everything else you can imagine. He could probably read through a tornado if one happened to strike the castle. But we all have that one thing. 

    The classroom was quiet. The scratch of quills on parchment and the occasional shuffle of feet filling Remus’s ears as he did everything in his power to focus on the test in front of him. Potions was a subject he excelled in, yet he had barely finished the first three questions and now sat practically fuming in his chair, his mind clouded with irritation. 

    A pop once again resonated through the room and no one else blinked, the quills continued their march. Remus gripped his own feather so tight he thought it might break in two. A few moments later  the sound greeted his ears again and he whipped around. His eyes fell on you, your hair bouncing lightly as you tapped your foot to some inaudible rhythm. Soft pink bubble gum lined your lips, the corpse of a bubble being tugged back into your mouth for rebirth. 

    “Would you cut it out?” Remus hissed drawing more than one pair of eyes. 

    You tilted your head in confusion, reminding the boy slightly of a puppy. You glanced behind yourself quickly and then pointed a finger at yourself in a silent question. 

    “Yes you.” Remus scorned, “Stop popping your bloody gum.” 

    Maybe it was because of how rude he had been or maybe it was the cute red tinge of anger on his cheeks, either effect led you to the same action. You gathered the treat in your mouth inflating one of the bigger bubbles you had made that day, popping it between your teeth.  The noise was loud like the snap of a whip. You smiled softly at the boy's stiff reaction, “No.” You hummed turning back to your work. 

    Remus was pretty sure you had verbally slapped him across the face. 

    The library was crowded with people, almost every chair was taken, faces shoved into books and fingers stained with ink.

The quiet atmosphere was broken by James’s loud groan, “Godric, that test Slughorn gave us was dreadful.” he complained, his head hitting the table in front of him. A chorus of hushing which he paid no mind to followed. 

“Tell me about it.” Remus mumbled his mood still sour from the period before. 

Sirius snapped to attention, “Since when do you have trouble in potions?” 

Remus sighed, rolling his eyes at his friend's amusement, “It wasn’t the test you idiot.” 

James turned his head, his cheek now squished against the wooden surface, eyebrows scrunched.

“There was this girl.” 

“A girl!?” Both boys shouted in unison, James’s head popping up from the table. They both were shushed aggressively. 

Remus scoffed, “Not like that-”

“Was she just so hot you couldn’t focus?” Sirius mused, the smirk on his lips mildly irritating.

“Did she have the top few buttons of her blouse undone? I damn near fainted last time Lily did that.” James chimed in.

Remus felt his cheeks go hot, “What? No-”

“So who's the lucky lady Moony?” 

“Yeah I can’t believe you didn't tell us.” James pouted. 

    “I don’t fancy her, you idiots!” Remus snapped, earning multiple glares.

    James and Sirius’s smiles dropped, disappointment finding their faces as all the excitement they had just been tempted with washed away.

    “I knew it was too good to be true.” Sirius mumbled halfeartly. 

    “So what was it then?” James asked, “If you don’t fancy this girl what’s the issue?”

    Remus huffed, “She was being bloody annoying that's the issue. She wouldn’t stop popping her gum, it is one of the most infuriating things I've ever experienced.”

    Sirius quirked a brow, “That's it?”

    “James was there.” Remus continued, “He gets it, it was absolutely dreadful.”

    James shrugged, “I don’t remember hearing any popping.” 

    Remus gauffed, “Seriously? It was so loud.” 

    “I probably just tuned it out,” He hummed, “Why didn't you just ask her to stop?”

    “That's the problem.” Remus groaned, “I did and she was totally rude and popped it right in my face.” 

    “Sounds kinda bitchy.” Sirius mumbled, “Any chance you know who she is?” 

    Remus racked his brain, “I think her name is y/l/n something, I'm not sure.”

    Sirius paused, “Y/n y/l/n?”

    “That sounds right.” 

    Sirius whistled, “She is wicked hot.”

    Remus scrunched his face in mild disgust, “Is that all you have to say on the matter?” 

    Sirius nodded returning to Transfiguration book,

    Remus sighed, “You guys are no help at all.”

If you had heard the conversation that had just taken place you would have been sorely disappointed. In fact you probably would have stormed up to your dorm and pouted fiercely. 

Remus Lupin was someone you knew well. Probably too well considering he had never even looked your way until the period before. It's not like you were a stalker or anything, he was just… really cute.

He had caught your attention in 4th year and never seemed to let go as he slowly reeled you in with hazel eyes and soft smiles. 

You would count his freckles in charms and imagine running your hands through his hair in potions, he never seemed to notice the pair of eyes boring into his curls. You were pretty positive that your crush was hopeless. I mean this was Remus Lupin you were talking about, sure he wasn’t as sought after as Black but he definitely had his fair share of admirers.

Your friends, the few you trusted with important information that is, were always pushing you to take some sort of action on your crush. You ignored them for the most part claiming it was useless and he would probably end up with someone else anyway. Yet year after year he was still single. It was a bit shocking in fact. Almost as shocking as the words you had spoken to him earlier that day.

You buried your head in your hands for the third time that minute, embarrassment and regret were eating you alive. What the hell is wrong with me? You thought. 

Adrianna, who was one of your closest friends and the one seated next to you for the horrific event was snickering behind her hand attempting to turn it into a cough as you glared at her. 

“I mean at least you talked to him.” She chidded and you threw your book at her. It was her turn to pout.

You groaned, your head hitting the table infront of you, “I’m a fucking idiot.” 

Adrianna shrugged, “Well yes.” 

“Why did I say no? Why couldn’t I just say yes and apologize like a normal person?” You complained.

She shrugged again, “Maybe it’s just in your blood to be a dick?” This time she caught a quill on her forehead. “Sorry, sorry,” a pause, “You know you could use this to your advantage,”

You raised an eyebrow, “How the hell would I manage that?”

“You could apologize, you know like a normal person.” she giggled.

You cringed at the thought, “Why would I do that?” 

Adrianna rolled her eyes, “Because you were an asshole. And most people apologize after being an asshole.”

You scrunched your nose, “Do you have any idea how awkward that would be?” 

“You’re helpless.” She mumbled returning to her work. 

You pouted, “Well you're not very helpful.” your mind began to turn as she continued her essay, one you had already finished the night before. Then suddenly an idea struck. 

You marched up to Remus with confidence you didn’t actually have. Your anxieties buried beneath a blanket of boldness. Your hands shook, stuffed deep in your pockets. 

“Yes?” He repeated reminding you that you had indeed called his name. 

You glanced around at his friends, their eyes locked on you with amused smiles. You put on an uncaring mask and rolled your eyes at Potter whose smile only grew, “Could we talk away from your goons?”

Remus grinned a bit as Sirius gave an over-exaggerated gasp, “Yeah sure.” 

You nodded quickly turning and starting towards the staircase. You didn’t catch Remus raising his eyebrows back at his friends and he didn’t see you release a shaky breath.  

Once you both stood in the narrow staircase leading to the deviations room you turned back to Remus who stood two stairs below you, the height advantage made you feel powerful. 

He didn’t seem particularly bothered by it, “You here to apologize?”

Your eyes widened, he seemed snarkier than he had been in potions, almost like he was challenging you, “I was, but now I don’t believe I will.” you clipped back.

Remus rolled his eyes, “Can I leave then?” 

Panic struck you, this was not going well, “Actually I need a favor.” 

Remus was surprised, that was definitely not what he had expected.

You huffed, praying to whatever god was up there that this would work. “Can you tutor me in potions? I’m actually not all that good at it and I know for a fact you are.” One of those statements was a blatant lie. Potions had been one of your better grades for a while now but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Why should I help you?” Remus asked, taking a step towards you, the height advantage lessening. 

You weren’t really sure how to answer that, “I suppose you shouldn’t.” You sighed and Remus smirked, “But you will.”

He raised his brows, “And why's that?”

You popped your gum enjoying his flinch, “Because you are just so sweet.” you said it with a slight coo like you were talking to a young child.

Remus didn’t respond as you brushed past him.

“Meet me at the library tomorrow after lunch and don’t be late.” You called over your shoulder.

Remus stood in the stairwell staring where you had just stood. He let out a heavy sigh , his heart beating louder than it should have been. 

Part of you thought he wouldn’t even show and that instead you would sit in the library like a fool as Remus laughed about you with his friends. So when you entered the library and found the boy already seated at a table, textbooks and notes placed neatly around him you were surprised. You fought a wide smile skipping beside him and reaching for the book in his hands. Before you could snatch it away Remus snapped it shut and moved it aside. 

“Take a seat y/n”  He spoke, smirking at you, clearly happy about his quick reflexes. 

You rolled your eyes sitting beside him and glancing at the papers in front of you. They were notes, neatly taken, no doodles in the margins. 

Remus leaned over your shoulder, “I think we should start with the basics and see how much you already know.”

It was only then that you realised you were going to have to pretend to be terrible at potions. You swallowed thickly, “Sounds good.”

You surprised yourself with how easily you lied. You slipped up only twice, brushing both off as lucky guesses and contuinuting with your stupid little curade. 

Remus ate it up, showing you simple questions and walking you through them as one did a child. It would have bothered you if he wasn’t leaning over your shoulder with his breath soft on your neck. He smelt like chocolate and fresh parchment, his curly hair so close you could reach out and run your fingers through it if you wanted to. 

You walked back to your common room in a slight haze, your stomach full of wings.

Remus peered after you curiously. Your actions confused him, he could’ve sworn you had already known the practice problems he gave you. Yet you had struggled, almost comically. He supposed you were just really good at pretending to be smart. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to pretend to be stupid?” You groaned.

Adrianna shook her head too focused on the note sheet in front of her to really care about what you were saying. 

Your rambles continued regardless, “Do you think I’m going to have to fail my next test so I can keep Remus as a tutor?”

She sighed fed up as she tried to study over your speaking, “You know you could just ask him out like if you weren’t such a pussy.” 

You glared at her lacking real malice, “I’m not a pussy, I’m just creative.”

“Pussy.” Adrianna coughed quietly and you rolled your eyes, she was only a little bit right. 

As your study sessions continued Remus found himself growing strangely fond of you. The banter you offered was entertaining, despite the fact you took every chance to annoy him. Your sarcastic comments made his lips twitch into a grin. Your response to his own remarks; a scrunch of your nose, making him chuckle. You still seemed a bit off and for the first week, Remus wasn’t sure what it was. It was clear that you were hiding something, faking something but he just couldn't place it. 

A pattern began to settle in front of him quickly. Your slip ups became a bit repetitive. And by slip ups he really meant your success. You were good at potions. In fact probably better than he was. Remus wasn’t sure why you were pretending to be terrible at a class you clearly were doing well in, but he was even more confused on why he didn’t call you out on it. 

For some reason he was dead set on keeping you at those study sessions. In fact he used a nearing test as an excuse to meet you daily. He debated his actions in his own mind most nights, why did he keep wasting his time to teach you things you already knew he wondered. He always came up empty, even more lost than he had been before. 

You had thought Remus to be smarter than he was. The fact that he hadn't picked up on your seemingly obvious act was astounding. You supposed it only helped you if he fell for it hook line and sinker, right? You started meeting him everyday in the library, he was very adamant about you passing the upcoming test and you weren’t going to complain, it gave you more time to count the freckles that dusted his nose anyway.  

You hummed quietly to yourself, fiddling with your quill. It was the night before the test and Remus had been insistent on you studying late into the night. So now you sat in the Gryffindor common room under the hazy light of candles with notes you had memorized ages ago. 

The crack of the fire was a pleasant background noise to your tune as your eyes locked onto Remus whose hair had fallen in front of his eyes yet again. You smiled softly watching him scribble final notes onto his Transfiguration assignment. Your gum was slowly losing its flavor on your tongue. 

Feeling your gaze he looked up, “You want me to quiz you on them?” He asked, gesturing to the notes under your arm. 

“Sure.” You reposed picking up the paper and passing it off to him. 

Remus watched you carefully, answers came easily most of the time but every once and  while you would struggle, himming and hawing as you pretended you didn’t know how to respond. He played along until you finished the note sheet.

You were confused when he put it down, “Aren't we going to go over the ones I got wrong?” 

Remus sighed, “Why would I do that when you already know them?”

You furrowed your brow, “I got them wrong.”

“You know them though don’t you?” He smirked, “You know all the stuff that I’ve been teaching you.”

You laughed but there was no humor to it, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He only smiled more, “Yes you do.” 

You just sat there, your mind was spinning, you hadn’t really planned for the end of it all. You had no clue how you were going to explain this. 

“I’m curious.” Remus said, “Why go through all this trouble?” 

You just started at him opening your mouth to answer only to close it again. 

“Come on y/n don’t leave me hanging.” He grinned and you felt like you were going to throw up. 

“How long have you known?” You asked quietly.

Remus shrugged, “About a week.” 

You hesitated, “Wait, why didn't you say anything sooner?”

He shrugged again, “No reason.” 

It was your turn to smile “No really Remus, why waste your time with me?” You questioned. 

He sighed, “It wasn’t really a waste of time.”

“It wasn’t?” 

Remus felt weirdly trapped, “You still haven't answered my question.” 

“Fine you really want to know?” You said chewing your gum anxiously. 

He nodded.

“I wanted to hang out with you, and I wasn't really sure how to ask.” You huffed picking at your nails. 

There was a beat of quiet, the fire popped behind you.

“Now you tell me why you didn’t say anything earlier.” You said trying to divert from your embarrassing confession. 

Remus pondered his answer for a moment, “Because I like you.” 

Your eyes widened, “I thought you found me annoying.” you laughed lightly.

“Oh no I do.” He grinned leaning closer to you as you scrunched your nose in annoyment. “You know you could have just asked me out instead of pretending not to know anything about potions.”

You ignored the heat in your cheeks as Remus leaned just inches from you, “Where’s the fun in that?”

He chuckled, “I supposed there isn't any.” his breath was warm on your skin and your eyes slipped shut as he closed the distance between you. 

Remus’s lips were smooth and soft against your own, his hand cupping your cheek lightly. You ran your fingers through his hair as he tilted your chin back, deepening the kiss. 

He hummed lightly, you tasted like bubblegum.

taglist:

@evyiione @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @obsessedwithrandomthings @coldlilheart @suseptiable-but-siriusexual @inglorious-imagines @the-natureofme @trickylittlewitch @layaa-layaaa

Masterlist

[iaintyourbro]

The Unknown Journey Continues

Part 1

I know it's been a while... but I've been going down a rabbit hole with @starlight-samurai regarding time loops, Jenova, Minerva, and more fun. So I figured I'd try to put it into one post to get the insanity out of my head. Everything in here is based on things we've found by either going through more obscure Ultimanias, learning more about Dirge of Cerberus and trying to decipher what the hell Jenova is by putting together various sources - including other Square Enix games - and how they handled freakishly similar scenarios.

Did you know there is a companion mobile game for it that was out on the good old flip phones? Did you know there was an online mode in Dirge of Cerberus only available in Japan, but had story elements that were not in the main game?

The sad part is, there's still so much to go through...

(I've also had various discussions with @ourfinalheaven, Manu, who doesn't have Tumblr, so here is her Twitter. and Somebody's Nightmare (here is her Twitter). So I wanted to tag them here, as it's much more fun to discuss these ideas as a group, since it'll only help you build on and strengthen your own ideas.)

Please be aware, there will be Spoilers for FFVII - Almost all Compilation titles, Xenogears, and NieR Automata throughout this.

So let's go on a journey where we explore what actually already exists in the compilation - including the idea of the whispers and timeloops - how Minerva may play into everything, and what exactly Jenova is capable of doing.

I asked Sesi if he'd ever played any of the NieR games, because he'd said something that made me wonder if they were going to take a similar approach. As a very, very quick high level summary: NieR Automata deals with a time loop type of idea. The androids will be rebooted and repeat the same things over and over again. This is broken when 2B is killed by A2 because she becomes infected with a virus. That being said, you have the option after Ending E to either erase all of your data and end the cycle OR you can try again. The Pods have a discussion, and one asks, "But won't they just do the same thing again?" and the other replies with "Maybe. But it could also be different this time."

Here's Sesi's message back to me when I asked him about this (cleaned up a bit since we were having a casual conversation over Discord):

Maybe I could just guess based comparatively on the Dirge storyline, because that was sort of SE's first flirtation with “robots and androids” since they’re all programmed and locked behind like task managers and shit that can shut them down. The story of the online mode for DoC that came out in Japan, we never got to see it, you’re basically an Android OC and you have to get to “the end of the level” and then essentially die, and a new one takes its place. This keeps happening until Weiss is essentially freed from being able to be task managed by the guys who are suppose to be able to control them and I know from tons of years with Square games that they’re verrrrry bad at differentiating their narratives they tend to just keep “ripping themselves off” so is it anything close to that?

Cuz if so I think I kinda know what you’re saying and yeah, I agree, I think with CC bringing in its poetic symbolism and LOVELESS, and DoC bringing back the cyclic nature of the lore, whispers, premonitions and future visions, proto-Materia and the perversion of this next cycle since the planet can no longer cleanse and protect itself and its will is weakening lesser and lesser to the point where it’s fate is “in a true sense of jeopardy This time essentially it’s all tied in together and sort of played as though it's a fated track; a cycle of events and something has hitched it, thus the whispers manifesting and Sephiroth's higher implied control over his destiny. Of course, even all that is just their new red herring game, but it’s definitely a part of the lore they want to play with, in order to go back and reMAKE the OG with the comp inserted from inception. Also gut punch a lot.

Time Loops

I was somewhat surprised to find out that this concept is NOT new to FFVII's universe. It's discussed in Dirge of Cerberus... probably one of the least played and least understood of the compilation. (Trying to sell a third person shooter with terrible controls to a market of mostly people used to turn-based combat wasn't going to go well.)

On top of it, we didn't even get all of it, since online mode was never released outside of Japan, and the Dirge of Cerberus Lost Episode was on Amp'd Mobile and Verizon flip phones back in 2006. Were you around for the cell phones in 2006? I had the ones on the list, and how somebody could play a game on those blows my mind.

Square has a tendency to reuse themes from their other titles. Probably one of the most blatant is the similarities between Xenogears and Final Fantasy VII. They were both being developed at the same time and a lot of ideas that didn't make it into FFVII ended up in Xenogears.

NieR

So how does this work? In NieR (both Replicant and Automata), you play the same path multiple times. Each time, it's slightly different depending on what side quests you did your first and second playthrough, but there's also other subtle differences throughout the story. In Automata, you get to play as 2B your first playthrough and 9S for your second. They follow the same path, but you get it from his perspective the second time and it reveals a bit more of what is going on. However, even with some slight differences, the main plot points stay the same and the ending result it also the same.

Then on your third playthrough, you wake up in the Bunker, and you're getting ready to go on a new mission. This time, though, 2B is killed and shit hits the fan. Things get crazy, you play as a new character: A2. In the end, pretty much everyone "dies", but you can choose to "reboot" and try again. You also can say you are done and let them all rest and delete your save data (the game gives you the option for both Automata and Replicant, and with Replicant, it actually leads to a new ending).

The striking thing for me is... There are certain events that will always happen, no matter what.

Fixed Points in Time

It's been years since I've watched Doctor Who, but there was something that stuck with me, and that was the fixed points in time. You can read about all of them here, but here's the basics:

Now, of course Doctor Who goes into this with much more detail and it's a recurring theme. However, as you read through that page, you'll probably find many aspects that have been used in various JRPGs that you've played. And Doctor Who most likely pulled some of the idea from classic Science Fiction novels. Each story puts its own spin on it.

How does this relate to FFVII Remake? Well, when they say that the major plot points will stay the same, it reminds me of this. No matter what, Cloud must fall into the Sector 5 Church, the Sector 7 Plate must be dropped, Aerith and Zack both must die, and Meteor has to be summoned, to name a few. So, with a time loop, those things would still have to take place in order to prevent a complete collapse of reality (at least in how Doctor Who uses it).

Therefore, the Whispers are ensuring that the Will of the Planet is followed.

One of the major themes in FFVII is that of loss. People die and they do not come back. Yes, other FF games do allow this to happen (FFX, FFXIII, FFXV), but VII is not those games. It was written with that idea in mind, that once a person dies, they, just like in real life, are dead and cannot be brought back.

I've previously written that I think they'll make us believe we are able to change fate, but we will eventually be slammed with the reality that we can't. That is because the planet has determined that certain events are fixed points.

Xenogears

Xenogears takes a bit of a different approach to the loop idea. Instead of repeating the same time period over and over, it has the characters reincarnated, and the same outcome happens each time: Elly dies. However, each time it's different. After all, they're in various time periods, in some cases thousands of years apart.

In all of the lives of Fei (who will have a different name in each time period) and Elly (who is always Elly/Elhaym), Elly will end up dying trying to protect Fei and the others. In one life, she is a religious figure at a totally not Catholic church, in another she's the wife of a scientist who was working to create children from nanomachines due to mass infertility issues. But she is ALWAYS with Fei, even if his name changes.

In her Mother Elhaym time, this is when Lacan (Fei) finally snaps. Though he's not fully aware of his past lives, he becomes aware, the anger consumes him, and he becomes Grahf. Fei is then reborn into the time period you play the game in.

There's a lot to unpack with this, so I won't go into it. Grahf wants to destroy God (Deus) because he thinks if he does, then it'll stop the suffering (his suffering).

If you do want to read more about Grahf, you can do so here, but it probably won't make much sense unless you've played Xenogears up to that point... Since it's much later in the game that this is all explained.

Lacan's desire was to stop the cycle of Elly always sacrificing herself for his sake. Though Grahf is not a perfect existence - he's not fully "The Contact", he sacrifices himself in order to let Fei move forward, and hopefully stop the cycle, by destroying the Deus system. (Elly also tries to sacrifice herself here, but Fei goes after her and stops her.)

Now, some people may think I'm saying that Cloud or somebody is going to do this in order to save Aerith or Zack (or his village or mom), but in FFVII if they do the loop method, I don't think Cloud, Tifa, Barret, and the others are aware of it. Most likely, it's only 'Sephiroth' and Aerith who are aware of it.

How this Could Be used for Final Fantasy VII

I'm stressing could because there's so many different possibilities on how they use this (if they are using this), so please, don't take this as fact. This is based on speculation based on what we know.

A time loop is a great way to explain away the differences in the story that we've seen: Biggs being alive, Wedge living for longer than he should have, etc. Since these are not major plot changes, they can simply say that this time it'll be slightly different... but your fixed points (major plot points) will remain the same.

It's a way to pull in some of the more obscure themes from Dirge of Cerberus and also play with the LOVELESS lore.

It could all simply be a big red herring and it's really just a remake of OG, but with the compilation tied together nicely... since it works much better when it's combined and not in 50 different games, books, movies, etc.

I don't think it's a "sequel" per say, not in the way I generally perceive a sequel. It's more of a loop of the same thing. The question is, when is the loop started and what will cause it to end? When will the planet (if it even is the planet) determine that it's good enough to begin moving forward?

JENOVA, Sephiroth, Genesis, and Minerva - Oh My!

Let's be real... Genesis isn't exactly the most popular character in the FFVII Compilation... but what if they make him one of the most important to the story? //Ducks as various fruits and vegetable are thrown in my direction//

I think what Genesis is probably most known for is his love of LOVELESS. He has the entire thing memorized and randomly says lines from it throughout Crisis Core. LOVELESS lore is still something I'm trying to grasp, so I am not going to comment much on it. Once I understand it more, I'll update this.

...And then this happens. The secret ending for Dirge of Cerberus, where Genesis picks up Weiss. Weiss, who has now been introduced along with Nero in FFVII INTERmission and is an optional ridiculously hard boss in the Shinra battle simulator in chapter 17 of the main story. There is some lore associated with the battle sim - so if you don't plan on beating it or you just can't, you can look up the pre-battle and post-battle cut scenes on YouTube. They're very short, but interesting. (I beat this asshole last night - it's a hell of a fight.)

....To Be Continued because apparently Tumblr won't allow more than 10 images per post now.... Next will be more on JENOVA and Sephiroth along with Minerva.

[kirikiribaku]

I saw your KiriBaku headcanons post, and your Kirishima not liking Bakugou's mum headcanon got me intrigued! I mean, I understand (Im not her biggest fan either and admittedly very prone to antagonizing her), but I'm interested to hear your ideas for it!

boy. When I read this ask I told myself: I’m gonna sit down in front of the computer and write a well-argued answer. So now I have this 1k-words essay in a word document that I’m about to copy-paste here. Enjoy.

On why Kirishima wouldn’t like Bakugou’s mum.

Okay, so first of all, full disclaimer, this is all a result of my own headcanons (that may have been inspired by some canon content), but still remain as that, headcanons.

We don’t know much about Bakugou’s mum besides the fact that she works in the fashion industry and that she’s...

well. Pretty aggressive.

The scene where Aizawa comes ask for the kids’ parents’ permission to move into the dorms is the one time we get to see Katsuki’s parents and their personalities, and while I can understand the appeal of making Mitsuki rough and aggressive (his son really takes after her!), there’s just something that doesn’t feel right.  We see her hit Bakugou multiple times while his teachers are there, she even pushes his head down into an apologetic bow, and we know this must have been normal during Katsuki’s childhood because of what he says during the remedial course.

That’s how he was raised! What does that mean? That he received a few slaps every time he was being a brat? That his mum would yell at him and he didn’t hesitate to raise his voice back until she lost her patience? (is that why he talks so loudly all the time now?) Not the ideal environment for a kid, and yes it probably has a lot to do with all his anger issues as a teenager.  

But what really really gets to me is this one particular panel.

I understand this probably might have been drawn as a gag panel, “Oh look, they’re fighting again haha! That must be lowkey uncomfortable for the teachers!”.

But I don’t think calling Bakugou weak for being kidnapped is funny. And I don’t think he could just brush it off at that time.

The guilt and self-hate that must have (still are) eating at Bakugou, that would build up to the catharsis during Deku vs Kacchan 2, must’ve only been worsened by comments like that one.

So yeah. No. Not at all what Mitsuki should’ve said as his mother.

If we know little about Bakugou’s parents, we know nothing about Kirishima’s family (Horikoshi please this is me begging you). But we do know Kirishima: sweet, friendly, all sunshine smiles and words of encouragement! He is the opposite of Bakugou in that aspect, and that makes me think that his parents mums are completely different from Mitsuki too.

I imagine (again, we are entering headcanon territory) Kirishima was raised in a caring environment, showered with love and affection. He was probably a pretty well mannered kid too, so he didn’t argue with his mums often, and they never raised a hand against him.

So now, what do you think Kirishima’s opinion of Bakugou’s mum would be, if he ever met her?

I don’t think Katsuki talks about his mum much (if at all) with his classmates. Why would he. But then again we saw the “I was raised this way” quote earlier, so let’s say Kirishima and he talk about her at some point, for the sake of this argument. 

Maybe they’re on a study date in Bakugou’s room, Kirishima still finishing his homework while Bakugou reads laying on his bed. Kirishima’s been telling Bakugou about how excited he is to go back home for the holidays because he wants to see his mums, that they’re gonna go shopping and cook together. Bakugou remains silent, humming from time to time to signal he’s paying attention, but not looking at Kiri. There’s silence when Kirishima stops talking, and since it doesn’t seem like Bakugou is gonna say anything on his own accord, he asks: “Hey, I just realised, you’ve never told me what your mum’s like.”

Bakugou scoffs, “she’s fucking annoying.”

“Oh, come on,” Kirishima teases, “she can’t be that bad.”

Bakugou shrugs. His brow is furrowed and his shoulders tense. He turns to his side, showing his back to Kirishima. “I’d much rather stay here training, holidays‘re a waste of time.”

Kirishima’s face falls. It’s not just Bakugou’s words that get to him, but his whole body language. It’s not like when he refuses to hang out with the class in the common room on a week day, or when he reluctantly agrees to go to the game centre with their friends. He looks truly uncomfortable. The idea of not enjoying the precious days one gets to spend with their family is... depressing for Kirishima. He feels sad for Bakugou; just what kind of environment did Bakugou grow up in?

If Kirishima were ever to witness Mitsuki calling Bakugou weak, I’m sure he would snap and jump into the argument to defend Bakugou. Knowing Kirishima’s backstory, and how bad he struggled with confidence-issues in middle school, this is probably one of the worst insults for him – and it’s being thrown at one of the strongest people he knows, a kid he’s grown to admire and whose words serve as inspiration for him!

So Kirishima cannot accept it. He would stand up and praise Bakugou for all he’s worth, his manliness and his ambition, his power and his technique, with such confidence and determination that it would leave Mitsuki at a loss for words. And he would be appalled that it was Katsuki’s own mother who was slandering him so easily like that

TL;DR: What I’m trying to say is that Bakugou’s relationship with his mum seems uncomfortable and stressful, the kind of mother-son relationship that would make Bakugou feel locked in and constantly on edge in his own house, maybe even not appreciated. Kirishima is perceptive enough to notice that, and that’s why he doesn’t like Bakugou’s mother.

[hotchley]

For your 500 thing: 4 from the angst list with Hotch and anyone else, platonically? I like the prompts you've chosen too. Very angsty haha

Hehe thank you! I chose Reid, because it worked so... yeah. This is not to be seen as me infantilising Reid or as H Crit because it's not. People say things they don't mean when they're hurting. There will come a time when Reid doesn't hesitate and Hotch forgives himself. It's just not written here.

It went over 1.5k... let's just ignore that. Umm... Set sometime between Nameless, Faceless and Haunted. There's no real comfort.

4: "shut up! please. just shut up."

Trigger Warnings: past child abuse, intrusive thoughts, references to canon-typical events and violence

read on ao3!

With hindsight, moving Spencer to the same hospital as Aaron was not the smartest idea the BAU had ever had. Not when traumatic and painful events caused them to react in opposite ways. When Spencer was hurt, he didn't stop talking, so terrified that if there was even the slightest indication that he was weak, everyone would leave. And when Aaron was hurt, he completely shut down, still scared that making his existence known would lead to hurt.

But at the time, they had only been thinking of Derek. He had been running himself ragged, trying to manage the BAU in Aaron's absence, and caring for both his teammates who were in different hospitals, because he was coincidentally, the only person that either of them would listen to.

Perhaps they were more alike than anyone gave them credit for.

So Spencer was moved into the same room as Aaron, because when the team came, they came to see both of them, and it was apparently good for the two patients to socialise with each other and try to maintain their bond. At least, that was what everyone said to them. In reality, it was just easier to only have to have certain conversations once. Especially the ones about Foyet.

Because even though both of them would be out of the field for a while, and had lost so much of the independence they prided themselves on, the situations were not the same and they never would be. Spencer had been shot in the leg trying and succeeding in saving a man, and the perpetrator had been arrested. He had gotten justice.

Aaron had been stabbed nine times in his home, the place he had a right to feel safe in, by a man so evil that there was no chance of ever reasoning with him. Foyet had gotten away, and he'd taken Haley and Jack with him. The only people Aaron seemed to live for, were gone. He hadn't gotten any sort of closure. Nobody seemed to understand that, because everyone kept saying him and Spencer could relate to each other. But they couldn't. And he was sick of hearing it.

But he tried to hide that bitterness. Spencer wouldn't have been shot if he had been there. He would have been the extra set of eyes needed to finish the letters, and they would've worked it out sooner. They would've all been fine, if he had done anything other than frozen when the bullet wedged itself in the wall beside his hair, close enough to make his ear ring painfully. His anger was irrational, and the result of trauma. Everyone else understood his emotions were all-consuming and overpowering, but he didn't. To him, the anger and resentment were just another sign he was becoming his father.

He wasn't. But he would never allow himself to believe that.

Spencer knew that his and Hotch's situations were different. That Hotch blamed himself for what had happened to Haley and to him. That Hotch was hiding how he truly felt, probably to protect him. That things were going to explode sooner rather than later. He just didn't know how much sooner than expected it would end up being.

Rossi had swung by in the morning, and that visit had set Aaron on edge. Rossi was trying to help, he was, but his method of doing it wasn't helpful. It never had been. Not for someone like Aaron, who needed something that was not his best friend telling him how the BAU had been fine without him. Or how the children seemed to be fine. Or how victims could recover.

When Rossi left, Reid took the crutches beside his bed and hobbled over to sit in the chair that he'd vacated. They had both been encouraged to try and be mobile without going beyond their limit. Only Spencer had listened.

"If you want him to stop talking, you can always tell him," he said gently.

Aaron turned away. "He's just trying to help."

"But he's not. I think we can all see it."

"Spencer, I don't know what you're trying to do but-"

"I don't care if you resent me. I care that you're lying."

"I'm not lying."

"Really? So if I asked you whether or not you resent me, you could look me in the eye and say you don't? If I asked you whether you blame yourself for my injury, you would say no, and mean it? If I asked you who was responsible for Haley and Jack going into WitSec, you would say Foyet? If I asked you how you feel, would you say hopeless and angry? Would you?" He snaps.

Aaron stares, and Spencer feels the heat rise to his cheeks. Hotch is still his superior.

"I'm sorry, that was out of line."

"No, it's- you're right. I am lying. But-" he swallows, unused to being so vulnerable, especially with someone like Spencer, "I have to. Lie that is. I can't be honest. Not about this. Not with these feelings."

"Why? You've been put through horrific trauma. I think you're entitled to feel like shit. I feel like crap."

Aaron looks at Spencer, in all his hopeful innocence, and understands the subtle invitation to be honest for once in his life. To let someone else save him. To have a normal conversation, with no ulterior motives or secret conditions. To have someone just care for him because they love him, not because they want anything in return. It's that final realisation that makes him take a leap of faith.

"Because if I let myself feel the anger, I will never stop, and then I will never be any better than my father." The words taste like failure, and he hates himself for saying them as soon as they leave his mouth. Who is he, to do this to a subordinate? To make someone else take responsibility for his issues? He wants to take the words back as soon as realisation dawns on Spencer, but he can't.

All he can do is close his eyes, and pretend he is somewhere else where whatever comes next cannot touch him.

"You know those thoughts don't determine who you are," Spencer says, and nothing about his tone has changed. He still cares about Aaron. Aaron, who has to blink back tears because he always forgets how many terrible things this boy has seen.

He tries to tell Spencer to stop, that he doesn't deserve to be called a good person, but the words won't come.

"I can tell you don't believe me. Well let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a FBI agent that panicked so much during their gun qualification that they failed. And the man that had been practicing them, who had every right to lash out, just nodded and asked if it was his fault. If there was anything he could do to help. And then he trusted that agent with his life. Without hesitating," Spencer said. It felt like he was talking to Henry.

Aaron needs him to shut up. He cannot hear this story. It is his life, so he knows how it ends, but he cannot hear that ending right now. Not when the loss of his family is still so raw and painful. Not when it consumes his every waking moment.

"And after the case was over, he raced to the hospital, and he stayed in the waiting room until his son was born because he refused to leave his wife for a second longer than necessary, even though she had given her blessing multiple times for him to go save people. She said that he changed more nappies during his paternity leave than most men do in their lives."

"Spencer-" Aaron manages to say.

"Abused children can break the cycle. They have broken the cycle. They continue to do so. You said that once. Do you remember? You told Vincent Perotta that not every victim goes on to become a killer. Because some grow up to catch them and you are one of them, you just-"

"Shut up! Please. Just shut up." He doesn't mean to shout. He doesn't mean to make Spencer flinch. He doesn't mean to sound angry. He doesn't mean to say the words. He doesn't mean to do any of those things, but he does, and he won't ever forget how terrified Spencer looks.

He did that. He did that, with nothing more than his words, and he cannot believe what he has done, but he has, and it's a terrible thing. And everything Spencer just said has been disproved. Everything.

"I'm sorry," Spencer whispers, turning away.

"No. No, please don't be sorry. You've not done anything wrong. Spencer, look at me. Please. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean-"

"Yes you did. Don't lie to me."

And Aaron has lied about enough. He won't lie anymore.

"I am sorry," he says, even though it won't ever be enough.

Spencer smiles slightly, but then he goes over to his own bed. He closes his eyes, and pretends to sleep. He carries on pretending when Aaron walks over for the first time in three days, and kisses his forehead, much like he always does for Jack. He carries on pretending as Aaron sighs, and whispers an explanation too honest for repetition.

Aaron truly is sorry. Spencer truly does forgive him. The words are never said again, not to him, but that's the worst part. No matter what either of them do, Spencer will always remember and hesitate, and Aaron will never forget or forgive himself.

[engie-ivy]

James refuses to accept the break-up unless either Remus or Sirius will look him in the eyes and tell him he's not in love with the other anymore

“Yes, Moony,” James says in a mocking tone, and Merlin, Sirius could actually strangle him right now. “Tell me you broke up with Padfoot because you weren’t in love with him anymore.”

Remus just gives James an angry look.

Sirius sighs. “Look, Moons. If you’re worried about hurting my feelings, it’s fine. I already know, have known for the last three years. Hearing you say it now isn’t going to kill me.”

From second thoughts to first dates

“Lily’s going to kill me.”

Sirius is sitting on the floor of his flat with his back leaning against the couch. Remus is sitting beside him, and a very drunk James is sitting across from them. Sirius and Remus are pleasantly buzzed, but James is positively wasted. They watched the final of the Quidditch World Cup together, and after James’s favourite team lost, went to the pub where he made use of the opportunity to drown his sorrows.

Now they’re back at Sirius’s flat, sitting on the floor eating grilled cheese. Living alone without house elves has proven to be very beneficial for Sirius’s grilled cheese-making skills.

“Nah,” Remus says, laying his head back against the couch and closing his eyes. “She’ll just let him suffer through his hangover tomorrow and then it’ll be fine.”

“He’s supposed to have lunch with Lily’s sister and her husband tomorrow,” Sirius sighs. “After the disaster of their first meeting, Lily was hoping he’d make a good impression this time.”

Remus opens one eye to look at James, who is currently dipping his grilled cheese in the glass of water Sirius gave him instead of his ketchup. “Yeah, that might be a problem.”

“Don’t care to make a good impression anyways,” James says, chewing on his soaked grilled cheese. “Pompous nitwits the both of them were.”

Remus smirks. “Is that why you went on a rant about the newest broom models and made the husband think you were mocking him?”

James points his grilled cheese at Remus, making wet crumbs fly in his face. “He started it! Puffed up buffoon bragging to me ‘bout his bloody... muggle wagon.”

“Still, you should act your best for Lily’s sake.”

James shakes his head. “No use. Doesn’t matter how I act, they’re determined to hate me, so they’ll hate me. Pointless, trying to impress them, absolutely pointless.”

Remus lays his head back down and Sirius focuses his attention on his own grilled cheese, while James keeps babbling on about how pointless it would be to try and be liked by Petunia and Vernon Dursley.

“Pointless, so very pointless. No point anywhere to found. One of the most pointless things in the world. Almost as pointless as...” James seems to wreck his brain to come up with something in the same category of pointlessness. “Your break-up!” He eventually says, waving his grilled cheese at Remus and Sirius.

Remus responds merely by giving James an exasperated look, and Sirius is proud of himself that, despite the sting in his heart, he manages not to react besides lifting one eyebrow. “Prongs, that still bothers you? It’s been three years.” Another sting in his heart. Has it really been three years already?

“Has it really been three years already?” James asks. “That makes it even more pointless! Three years and nothing’s changed.”

“Nothing’s changed?” Now Sirius can hardly keep the annoyance out of his voice. Three years since he last kissed Remus, three years since he last woke up next to Remus, three years since he last looked into Remus’s eyes and could think to himself ‘he’s mine’, three years since the world turned into a continuous numbness with just memories of happiness, but sure, nothing’s changed.

“Yes,” James says. “You’re still each other’s most important person in your life, you still look at each other like that, and neither one of you has ever dated anyone else in these three years, so what’d you go and break up for?”

Sirius frowns. “Moony dated. That woman from work...”

James makes a dismissive gesture. “She was married, her husband was just abroad.”

“Not like that,” Remus quickly clarifies. “We just hung out as friends a couple of times, nothing happened between us.”

“Moony asked me to keep up the pretence, hoping that it would help you move on.” James lets out a laugh. “What a disaster that was! During that time, a bloke was chatting you up in the pub once, and Moony glared at him so intense I thought he was going to punch him!” James burst into a fit of giggles. “Remember, Moony? You were clutching your glass so hard, it shattered in your hand!”

While James keeps giggling, Remus gives him a look that gives Sirius a pretty good idea what that bloke in the pub must have endured.

James wipes the tears from his eyes. “I’m just saying, you could’ve saved me three years of dealing with jealousy, pining and fits of crying.”

Sirius flushes and grits his teeth. Drunk or not, James has no business letting Remus know how pathetic he’s been these last three years. “Don’t make Moony feel guilty about it, Prongs. He’s not obligated to be with me just for your comfort, so deal with it.”

James rolls his eyes. “I’d deal with it, if you’d have a good reason for the break-up.”

“What more of a reason do you need?” Sirius is now seriously annoyed. “When one person is not in love with the other anymore, there’s nothing else you can do but break-up. That’s just life, and yes, it sucks, but it happens, and it’s no one’s fault.”

James, however, insists on being stubborn. “I would accept that reason. So, let me put it this way: if one of you can look me in the eyes and tell me that he’s not in love with the other anymore, I’ll drop the topic forever and I’ll never bring it up again.”

Sirius pinches the bridge of his nose and decides to just accept his faith. “Moony, just tell him.”

Startled, Remus jerks his head up, from where he was intently studying a loose thread on his jumper. “What? Why?”

Sirius glances at him. “Because I don’t know about you, but I’m not particularly enjoying this conversation. I’d rather get this over with as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, okay,” Remus says. “Why me then?”

“Because that was the exact reason you broke up with me three years ago!”

“We could just wait till he’s sober,” Remus mutters.

“I want to get this over with, so please, just say it,” Sirius says frustrated.

“I just don’t know if we should indulge his drunken demands.”

Sirius now really loses his patience. “Moony, just tell Prongs you broke up with me because you weren’t in love with me anymore!”

“Yes, Moony,” James says in a mocking tone, and Merlin, Sirius could actually strangle him right now. “Tell me you broke up with Padfoot because you weren’t in love with him anymore.”

Remus just gives James an angry look.

Sirius sighs. “Look, Moons. If you’re worried about hurting my feelings, it’s fine. I already know, have known for the last three years. Hearing you say it now isn’t going to kill me.”

Remus opens and closes his mouth, and then stares down at his sleeve again, looking miserable.

“Moony,” Sirius says. “Why can’t you just tell him-”

“Cause Moony’s a terrible liar!” James interjects. “He can’t get the words over his lips, especially not in front of you.”

Sirius shakes his head and can’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. “He had no trouble saying it three years ago, so why would it be a problem now?”

Remus’s head snaps up to look at Sirius. “I never said I wasn’t in love with you anymore three years ago!” He flushes bright red and looks away again. “What I said was-”

“I know what you said!” Sirius interrupts. Like he’d ever forget the words that made his entire world come crumbling down. “You said you wanted to end things between us, because you didn’t want to be with me anymore. Why else would you not want to be with me anymore?”

“It’s because of the werewolf thiiiiing!” James shouts, making Remus and Sirius flinch.

“What?” Sirius asks, confused. “No, that can’t be. It can’t be because of the werewolf thing. I’ve never once made an issue of that.”

“That was exactly the problem!” Remus snaps. “You acting like it was nothing. You didn’t understand how much it would affect you, how much it would affect your whole life. You didn’t comprehend-”

“I comprehended just fine!” Sirius says, raising his voice in anger. “I comprehended all of it! I comprehended that we’d never have much money, as you’ll never be able to get a steady, decent job, I comprehended that we’d never be able to live in one place for too long, as eventually it’ll raise suspicion, I comprehended that there’d be parts of society we’ll always be left out of, due to prejudice and stigma. I did comprehend, I just didn’t care, and that’s a difference!”

“How?” Remus stares at him in utter disbelief. “How could you not-”

“Because I fucking loved you!” Sirius shouts. “I’d have given up everything for you.”

Remus shakes his head. “Then you must understand how, for that exact same reason, I couldn’t let you do that.”

“That was never your decision to make,” Sirius hisses. “It was mine! And I had decided long ago that it’d be you, no matter what.”

Remus stares at him again, and Sirius can hardly bear to see the emotions in his eyes. Emotions he can’t figure out. For a moment, he thinks Remus will get angry, but then he falls back against the couch and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You tell him then. Tell him how I screwed everything up, and how you’re completely over me now and couldn’t possibly love me anymore.”

“Merlin, Remus, you’re such an idiot!”

Now Remus glares at him. “You’ve told me on multiple occasions how you’ve gotten over me.”

“Because I thought you had a good reason for breaking up with me!” Sirius replies. “I thought you had a good reason, and I didn’t want to make you feel guilty by letting you know how much of a fucking mess I still am, and how much I fucking miss you every day, even when we’re bloody together!”

“What are you saying?” Remus asks, voice suddenly trembling. “Are you saying that you’re not over me?”

“Are you saying that you didn’t fall out of love with me?”

Remus just stares at Sirius and Sirius just stares at Remus. He has no idea how to proceed, or how to go back. Back to half an hour ago or back to three years ago, he doesn’t even know.

They only come out of their contemplation by a drunken James loudly breaking the silence. “Still haven’t heard any reasooooons!”

Sirius apparates at a safe distance from the Potters’ home and starts dragging James towards his front door.

“Padderfootsie,” James mumbles. “D’you know how many werewolves have families? Of their own? So partners, not parents? I mean, I assume they all have parents, right? Where else would they come from? They don’t just shoot out of the floor.” James starts giggling again. “Can you imagine?”

“Prongs, please, I-”

“Zero!” James exclaims. “None whatsoever! It’s never been done! Too much weirdness about starting families when it comes to “dark creatures”.” He almost sticks Sirius’s eye out at the air quotes he makes around “dark creatures”.

Sirius doesn’t respond, so James continues. “Moony can’t just fall head over heels in love and fully throw himself into it with his whole being, without any doubts, like you and I can. Not with each other, of course. With Remus and Lily. Remus or Lily. Not both. Well both, but you know, one for each. You Remus, me Lily.”

Sirius really wants to get James inside as soon as possible, but James wiggles himself free from his grip to face him, and grabs his shoulders. “I know how much he has hurt you, I know. All I'm saying is, it’s different for Moony, but that doesn’t mean he loves you any less.”

“Merlin, Prongs.” Sirius swallows against a sudden lump in his throat. “I don’t know anymore if I never want you to get this drunk again, or wish that you’d gotten this drunk three years ago.”

Lily slams open the door and stalks into Sirius’s flat.

“Why, good day to you, Lilyflower.”

“Don’t you ‘Lilyflower’ me, Black,” Lily snarls.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine this afternoon.”

“Yes,” Lily says sarcastically, while taking a Butterbeer out of the fridge. “Waking up to find your husband knocked out on the couch really does wonders for your mood.”

“Well, you should be thanking me for the fact that he even was on the couch, instead of in a ditch somewhere.”

Lily swallows down a gulp of Butterbeer without breaking eye contact. “I would have preferred the ditch.”

Lily flops down on the couch with her drink and eyes Sirius for a while. “What are you doing?” She asks, after watching him pull on a fancy shirt and fixing his hair in front of the mirror.

“I got a date,” Sirius simply says.

Lily chokes on her next sip. “A...” She coughs a few times. “A date? You haven’t had a date since- in a long time.” She studies Sirius’s face, noting how, despite his efforts to look composed, he’s brimming with excitement. “That’s... That’s good, Pads. I’m happy for you.”

There’s a knock on the door.

Lily, not curious at all, turns around on the couch so she can watch the door as Sirius opens. Her eyes widen, and she can’t help how a small gasp escapes her lips, when she sees Remus Lupin standing there. He’s wearing his best slacks and his nicest jumper, and has even styled his hair. Lily looks with astonishment at the boys nervously staring and smiling at each other, dressed to the nines and well-groomed, like they didn’t eat pizza from the floor of Remus’s flat wearing stained sweatpants after not showering for days just the week before.

“Hi,” Remus says.

“Hi,” Sirius says.

“Hi!” Lily shouts.

Remus jumps, only now realising Lily is in the room. He blushes furiously and runs a hand through his previously well-groomed hair. “Oh, Lils, hi. I didn’t see you there. How are you? Is Prongs still alive?”

“Yes,” Lily replies solemnly. “I’m waiting for him to be sober enough before I kill him.” She gestures with her bottle between the two boys. “So what’s this? Are you two picking things up again?”

“No,” Sirius says hesitantly. “We’re more like... starting over?” A smile appears on his face with such genuine happiness as Lily hasn’t seen on him in... what? Three years? “This is our first date!” He adds.

Lily can’t help but smile back at him, bad mood almost forgotten.

“Well,” Sirius says. “We’ll better get going. There’re some left-over pumpkin pastries in the fridge, and there’s stuff for grilled cheese, but try not to burn anything this time.”

“Right,” Lily says. “You boys have fun then!”

After the door closes behind them, Lily turns around and slides back down on the couch. A huge grin spreads across her face. It’s been a long three years for all of them, but maybe, just maybe, all will be right with the world again.

[fenristheorem]

How do you think Valkyon and Gardienne relationship would be in ANE? if Valky were alive🤧(Headcanon or just comment❤️)

Post-writing note: This answer got sort of long, so it’ll be under the cut lol.

Aww, this ask is really a heartbreaker! Valk was my original route - his death really hit me and still does sometimes... 😔

Well, considering how their relationship in origins was positive (regardless of if they were a couple), I think Valk would have an even more positive view of Guardienne in ANE after she sacrificed herself. Valk always seemed to have a strong sense of responsibility, and while he wouldn't force someone to sacrifice for Eldarya, I don’t think he’d stop them either; he'd be sure to honor their memory and keep them alive by spreading the story of their bravery.

Now going into detail about this is where things become hard. Technically, Fafnir's prophecy suggested that the only way Lance would give up his war path against Eldarya was by killing his brother - which would snap him out the blinding emotions he felt for years on end. However, let's assume that something different happened, like Valk managed to convince his brother to see the horrible truth of his actions. I don't want to include the scenario where Lance died instead because I want to talk about Valk's opinion on Guardienne's relationship with Lance, since her relationship with Lance would probably be a major part of Valk's relationship with her.

If Valk were still alive it would have changed a lot of things - Ezarel (and many others) may not have left in that case. I'm not sure, but we do know he left because he couldn't stand being in the guard and being reminded everyday of everyone lost in the war - and that would probably effect their relationship too, but I'll stick to a simple overview for now.

He'd probably trust her more on missions now in terms of knowing she can defend herself - while being aware of the fact that she'll likely still wind up in the Infirmary despite his best efforts. Of course, he'll also set a training routine with her to assure that her swordsmanship gets back to how it used to be.

I have a feeling that Valk being alive with Lance and Guardienne now prowling around the guard will have a bit of a triangle effect. Being brothers, Valk and Lance care deeply for each other (while not being afraid to kick the shit out of each other on occasion - let's face it; they're still brothers), but their opinions on Guardienne may differ a bit and cause a rift between the three of them. Since Valk would deeply respect Guardienne, he'd probably want Lance to try and be closer to her as well, or at very least he'd want their past issues to be smoothed over. Now going into the New Era that we know, Guardienne flipped out on Lance when she first saw him for multiple reasons, and is still pretty pissed about his presence for many similar reasons - Valk's death likely being one of those major reasons. If Valk were alive, not only would Guardienne probably have a bit of a less hateful view on Lance (after all, its one thing to start a war but another thing to kill your own brother. While they're both definitely terrible, doing both will always weight heavier than if only one was enacted), but Valk would likely try and convince both of them to see the good in each other as well. He'd advocate that Lance should be patient with her until she settles in and he'd try to be a catalyst so Guardienne can warm up to Lance sooner and see his better side.

I wouldn't be surprised if they still hung out as close friends and - knowing how Valk was typically very calm and easygoing - he'd probably like hanging out with Mathieu and the others too. Being Lance's brother, he'd push for Lance to be more integrated as well, which would again mean that Guardienne would need to be around him more and would likely adjust to him sooner. Basically, Valk bridges the gap between the guard and Lance, but I don't see anyone actually hating him for doing so; he'd be a mending force for the guard. Guardienne sacrificed to save Eldarya, and Valk was the damage control for afterwards so the members of the guard created less rifts among themselves.

In the rare case where Valk and Guardienne argued, I imagine he'd take her seriously - but he's still logical. He would weigh her worries or reasons for anger based on facts and opinions that he knows, so while he'd probably respect most of her opinions I imagine he'd try to reason with her to dismiss her concerns. This, again, could be a major difference if Lance is kept alive. If he died, I couldn't see Valk and Guardienne arguing too much as there wouldn’t be many prominent things to argue about that concern both of them, but in the scenario where both brothers are alive I can see Valk and Guardienne arguing regarding Lance, and those rough emotions could reflect in some other parts of their relationship. This will cause a rift for a while until Guardienne learns that Lance really has changed, and if she desires to know more I imagine she'd then probe Valk for information. I could then easily see her in the long run sneaking around asking one of the two dragons about information on the other brother, or if she has an argument with one then the other will approach her and try to be a mediator for them.

Valk would be of great importance to the guard, Lance, and Guardienne by being able to mend any bitter emotions, and once things have been mended I could see him and Guardienne working and spending time together - with others or without - simply due to the fact that they enjoy being around each other and respect each other.

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[inanotherheadspace]

The Adventures of Team Lune - Chapter Four: The Battle with Team Lune Part One

Summary: A dragon slayer, a demon slayer, and a god slayer walk into a Guild Hall… and all goes to hell

Pairings: Natsu x Fem OC, Gajeel x Fem OC, Gray x Fem OC, Sting x Fem OC, Laxus x Fem OC, Loke x Fem OC

Word Count: 3,009

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As May finished up the job, she found herself outside the client’s shack, sitting patiently and waiting for her reward. It would be enough to cover any payments for the month, considering the extra money they would need for any bills. She let out a small sigh as time seemed to tick by slowly. “Maybe I’ll be able to at least see the judging half.” Muttering, she stood up, as the door behind her creaked open. The smaller man held out a small satchel, the reward of which was for what he claimed was her hard work. In reality, it really only took her about thirty minutes, barely enough to let her break a sweat.  

The bandit was nothing to write home about, a simple scrawny man with magic levels even less than the celestial wizard she had met a few days ago. She accepted the reward with a small smile and bow, tucking the satchel onto her belt and covering herself with her still tattered cloak. She waved a small goodbye, before turning on her heel and walking toward the wood’s entrance. When she finally was out of view of the small village, she let out another sigh, “They so owe me.” She continued along a short bit, before letting her curse power flow within her once more. That should do it. In mere seconds, wide white feather shaped wings sprouted from her back, allowing her to take flight as she ran swiftly up a tree’s trunk. While flying, she couldn’t help but notice the nagging feeling that only seemed to grow within her. She wasn’t hungry, nor was she sick, so what was the issue? She couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard she tried. She let out a short huff, speeding herself up in order to make it home in a timely manner.

After about fifteen minutes of quickly flying, Magnolia finally came into sight. A small smile erupted on the girl’s face as nothing seemed to be out of place. She swiftly made her way to the guild, spotting the familiar mark on its large sign. As she landed nearby, she retracted her wings before continuing on to the doors; making sure no one had spotted her yet. She opened the heavy door, slipping inside and noticing the emptiness and silence of the usually boisterous guild hall. Empty besides a few stone statues of her fellow female guild mates. Her brow quirked in interest, as she stepped forward and neared the presumed statues.  

“Wow, they made statues of all the contestants?” Her voice practically echoed across the hall, as her fingers pinched the bridge of Astria’s nose. “They’re so... life-like.” She soon found herself behind Calypso’s statue, her hands grabbing her chest. “Jeez, this is so weird, they feel so real.” May continue circling around the guild’s females, squinting to find any imperfections, anything to set the stone apart from their human counterparts.  

“Oh, you like my handiwork?” A woman’s voice boasted from the guild’s doors, causing May’s attention to snap over as it echoed. Her head cocked to the side in confusion, before realizing it was Evergreen. Evergreen had special eyes, courtesy of the Thunder Legion. What the hell is going on? She couldn’t quite pinpoint it yet, but she knew Evergreen had an unresolved issue with Erza, maybe even the rest of the girls. A superiority complex of some sort. “It was really quite easy, they were so unsuspecting, it’s kind of sad.” That’s when realization set in. They weren’t statues. They were her guild mates and friends.  

“So, you,” anger began to settle into May, “did this?” The anger began to bubble, course through her veins as she stared blankly at the woman in front of her. Her curse power began to unknowingly battle with her magic power, neither overpowering the other just yet, instead they’d be working in unison once more. The brunette simply nodded. “And just why... would you turn half of our guild to stone?” May’s voice began to drip in venom, her eyes thinning as they focused on the woman.  

“Aren’t they marvelous? I suppose this was the easiest way to claim my spot as queen of the fairies,” before Evergreen could finish her sentence, May was behind her the back of the woman’s neck in her tight grip.  

“Turn them back, or I’ll rip your eyes out.” Evergreen shivered under her guildmate’s touch as it tightened.  

“Not a chance doll, you’re next.” By now, May’s curse power was pulsing through her; her anger forcing it over her in an attempt to free itself for use. May sneered at her words, her grip tightening even more as her fingernails began to form into sharpened claws.  

“Hmph.” May grumbled while still maintaining to be expressionless as she sent the brunette flying into the brick wall, causing her glasses to shatter and an indent to appear.  

“You bitch!” Evergreen shouted, preparing herself for her own attack, her fan at the ready as she regained footing, “Fairy Machine Gun: Leprechaun!” But May was too fast now, her body emanating in curse power as she pulled multiple bright kunai from her arms. They seemed to almost glow white; made solely from her power. She shifted around and between each beam sent her way with ease, she had no time to be tired. She needed to protect the guild. Her friends. Team Lune would be no more without Astria and Calypso. Between the beams being shot, and both women maneuvering swiftly around each other, May was stuck with being on defense rather than offense, and the two found themselves outside of the guild, fighting on uneven ground. This works, this is perfect. The brunette continued her reign of attacks, in which May successfully evaded most, seeming to have been grazed once or twice. “I am the true queen of the fairies! Fairy tail has become weak!” She shouted, continuing to aim her shots toward each spot May was in, however now, May was moving too fast to see.  

The two kept going at it, May appearing to be on the defense whilst allowing Evergreen to seem she was on the offense. Answers, I need answers. She decided to keep up the ruse, ideally, she would get her answers and turn the fight around swiftly, just like she’d always been able to do. “Why are you doing this?” She all but growled at the woman, finally sending a kunai her way.  

“The thunder legion will fix Fairy tail from the ground up!” The brunette shouted in response, unbeknownst to the two, Erza Scarlet had shaken off Evergreen’s stone eyes, and had begun watching from below. “Beat me and I’ll turn them all back! But if you can’t, they’ll all be turned to dust!” Evergreen giggled maniacally, staring down at the shorter blonde. Control yourself. It was too late. May had once again appeared behind Evergreen, now gripping her by her hair and threw her into a thick pillar. The blonde’s jade eyes flared gold, as she neared the woman’s limp body. It wasn’t long before Evergreen began to push herself up, only to be face to face with what she could only call Satan herself.  

“Fix... Fairy tail?” The blonde’s head was cocked to the side as she staggered angrily and neared the brunette who was once a well-known guildmate. Her irises had shrunk, her eyes wide and with her heavy steps she stopped abruptly with a short, dry laugh. Her hands moved at the speed of light as the curse kunai struck the woman straight against the pillar; pinning her multiple times by her clothing. “Maybe... I’ll fix you.”  

“You are so naïve, May.”

“Change my friends back.”

“You’ve not won yet!” The pinned woman shouted back, preparing to shoot more of her fairy magic from her fingertips, unfortunately, May had already thought of that and pulled a large glistening scythe from her chest; continuing to stare down at the woman.  

“I dare you.” The blonde grinned as pure power radiated from said scythe, glimmering beneath the sun’s beams. Golden horns protruded from her blonde locks, angel-like wings sprouting from her back once more, but her aura seemed to drip in pure venom as she remained floating to Evergreen’s height. The woman began to cower in fear, shriveling up against the pillar as best as she could. “Change them back, now.”  

“I’ll die before I lose to you!” The woman’s voice shook, her fingers trembling into fists.

“Then I’ll kill you and take vengeance for my family.” As the words spurred from the blonde’s lips, light chains began to summon from her hips and began to wrap around the other’s body, glimmering with golden light and tightening her against the pillar.

May took a step forward, slamming her scythe’s handle into the ground beneath it, tearing the ground in front and around apart in its wake, stopping right below Evergreen’s feet. “I surrender!” Evergreen shouted, “I’m sorry Laxus!” She cried out, fear over taking her resolution as she cowered toward May who continued stepping closer and closer to her.  

“Change them back, now.”

“Fine! But it’s still not over! The rest of the Thunder Legion is still out there!” The blonde shrugged in response, before evaporating her scythe, leaving her pinned by the kunai and the chains that had now completely wrapped around the woman’s body and pillar.  

“May! Let me take care of her.” A voice broke the short silence, allowing May’s head to whip around to face Erza.  

“Erza?” The blonde’s brow quivered in suspicion, surely, she couldn’t be working with the Thunder Legion, May was sure she loved Fairy tail and wouldn’t harm it. You don’t know her as well as you think. No, even an outsider would know that Erza loves Fairy tail. They’re her family. Right? No. Yes. No. Yes. “Gah! Shut up!” Her palms forcibly pressed into her ears, trying to suppress her own thoughts.  

“Visual Magic has half of its effect on me, due to my artificial eye.” Erza stated calmly, paying no mind to the miniature temper tantrum May seemed to be hosting. The red head paced calmly past the blonde, reeling her fist back and slamming it into the brunette’s face, knocking her unconscious within seconds. At this, May just nodded. Of course, she had simply forgotten her fake eye.  

May turned her attention back to the stone statues of her Guildmates. Her eyes quickly focused on the pink haired Dragon Slayer as he snuck around behind each female, slowly trying to melt away the curse on each of them. Natsu locked eyes with May, signaling to her wordlessly that his theory should work.  

◊◊◊◊

May stood in front of Astria and Calypso as the two girls stretched. While Natsu’s plan had some merit to it, all of the Pageant contestants were released from their stone prisons when Erza beat Evergreen.  

“I hated that. Worst nap of my life.” The plumette stated with a yawn.

“There’s more important things going on right now Caly.” Astria’s voice was rough as she focused on the door. “If Natsu and Gajeel can’t leave... I most likely won’t be able to either...” she mumbled as she continued to stare off into the distance.  

“Who’s left of the Thunder Legion?” Calypso asked the pink haired dragon slayer.  

“Freed, Bickslow and Laxus.” Natsu answered with a huff.  

“Don’t be pissed off that you can’t fight.” May mumbled to the mage.  

“Yeah, and I let you and Erza have all the fun earlier.” Natsu shot back at the shorter blonde. The two were about to butt heads again as Calypso let out a loud whistle. With all the attention on her, she let out a sinister smile before looking at the door.  

“I call dibs on Bickslow.” She stated before making a full sprint to the door, two pure white wolves were waiting outside the Guild Hall door and ran after the Mage.  

“Lucy, go give Calypso back up. She’s used to working with Loke so make sure to use him to your advantage as well. Levy stays back and assists in breaking the Enchantment on the hall. Erza should stay here as well, we should rest. Can I trust Freed to you Mirajane?” May called as the white-haired mage nodded in response.  

“Does she usually just run off like that?” Gajeel asked Astria as the two hung back by the bar.

“Yeah, pretty much. Caly is a very powerful Mage and weapon user. She doesn’t seem it; she’d rather be in the Guild having fun or out in the woods under the moonlight than fighting. May and I are the opposite so it's helped our Team stay balanced. I blame my recklessness on Natsu.” Astria spoke casually to the Iron Dragon Slayer as they watched Natsu pace anxiously through the guild.  

“It’s not my fault!” Natsu yelled back at his childhood friend.  

“Natsu, once Levy breaks the Enhancement wanna help me look for Laxus?” Astria called back as she focused her attention to the pink haired man.  

“No, you’re gonna help me look for him.”  

“That’s what I just said!” Astria yelled at him, “Besides, I’m a better tracker than you are so hah!” Natsu made his way over to the two other Dragon Slayers. As soon as he was in range, Astria bonked him on the head with her fist. “Get your head outta your ass Natsu!”  

“Remind me to stay on your good side.” Gajeel jokes to Astria as Natsu sat on the floor in front of them rubbing his head.  

“I don’t need to do that.”

“Huh?”

“That’s Caly’s job. And if you hurt Caly, you have to deal with May and I. As well as her wolves.” Astria glared up at the man beside her to make sure to get her point across.  

◊◊◊◊

Calypso was perched across the way from where Bickslow stood with his babies floating above him. They hadn’t caught on to her yet, her wolves watched the perimeter for any other enemies.  

“I can probably take all five out in one go...” she mumbled to herself as she seemingly pulled her bow out of midair, “... invisible ones should do it.” Her hands worked as quickly as her mind did as five moon beam arrows appeared in her hands.  

“Wait, am I bringing him back alive?” The moon mage shrugged to herself before continuing her thoughts. “Eh, Polyusica can heal him so I'll have my fun.” Calypso worked quickly to notch the arrows before taking her aim. She took a deep breath as she let the wind surround her. As she went to let the arrows fly, a chipper voice spoke behind her.  

“So, what’s the game plan?” Lucy asked loudly, causing Calypso to flinch and miss her mark. Bickslow instantly looked their way and sent his babies flying, his snickering could be heard from their position.  

“You dumb whore.” Calypso practically growled at the blonde in front of her as she glared at her. The first of Bickslow’s babies crashed into Lucy’s left shoulder, causing the blonde to scream in pain. Calypso dodged the first one that was heading towards her before proceeding to hit it with an arrow.  

“Hey Bickslow, do me a favor and keep hitting the blonde with your babies.”

“Whose side are you on?!” Lucy yelled back at Calypso as she tried to dodge.  

“Shut up and be helpful. Call Loke now.” Calypso demanded before jumping off of her perch and running towards Bickslow.  

“Explain to me how I should shut up and call him at the same time?” Lucy quipped as she attempted to dodge the babies. Calypso stopped her attack and turned to the blonde.

“Summon Loke and then leave.”  Lucy rolled her eyes at the plum haired mage on her left.

“Open, gate of the lion! Leo!” The Celestial Mage yelled as she waived the key.  

“Hey gorgeous, did you summon me for a date?” Loke asked as Calypso hit him with a moon beam.

“Ouch!” Loke called as he turned around to face Calypso, “Oh hey babe, sorry I was flirting with another woman in front of you. She means nothing to me, promise.” Both Calypso and Lucy glared at him and put their hands on their hips. “Oh no.”

“Just back me up like always. Lucy, stay back.” Calypso commanded as her and Loke got into position.

“One hit wonder?” Loke called out.

“Absolutely.” The two stood next to each other before raising their opposite arms to the sky.  

“Moon strike -” Calypso called as a sparkling silvery white sphere formed in her hand.

“Regulus impact-”

“-Combo,” the two called in unison as they turned to face one another. They grasped the others’ hand, aiming their combo attack at Bickslow. As the mage tried to dodge, the beams of combined light followed him. Loke anchored his other hand on Calypso’s side, he knew this move was taxing to use as is; let alone in daylight.  

“One more hit and he should be down. You’ll be okay Caly.” Loke said as soothingly as possible to the moon mage.  

“Don’t make me sound like a little bitch in front of blondie and tongue boy.” Loke let out a deep laugh at his friend's snarky comment. The two refocused the combo attack as their last hit knocked Bickslow to the ground. Calypso unclasped their hands before running to the fallen Fairy Tail member. She kneeled down beside him and checked his pulse.  

“Well, he’s breathing at least but knocked out...” Calyso mumbled to the other two, “Hey Loke, can you do me a favor?” She called to the orange haired spirit.

“Of course, what's up?”

“Carry him back to the Guild Hall for me?”

“Yeah, of course.” He bent down before slinging the bigger man over his shoulder. “Come on Ladies, let’s head back to the Guild.” The two women nodded before following him, Calypso whistled and her two wolves came back to her side. “Caly, you’re buying me a beer when we get back.”

“Okay deal.”

[soranis-sunshadow]

Spacebats need anger management

I’ve been thinking a bit about Hordak’s off-putting angry outbursts. I was trying to figure out how one would get from being allowed to express no emotion to violent emotional outbursts. Is this an innate behaviour of spacebats or is it a learned behaviour?

Then it dawned on me:

What other person appears calm and collected only to suddenly snap in an unanticipated burst of viciousness? Horde Prime, that’s who. For the most part Prime appears calm and collected. He talks at people (not with them) in that smooth, slithering, and silky tone then, , out of nowhere, BAM! Violence. You don’t really know when it’s coming or if it’s coming. You don’t really expect it at first, if you are unfamiliar with Prime. The sudden shift is jarring and terrifying. Makes me wonder whether he wants to project calm and control but utterly loses his temper or these are calculated outbursts designed to make one feel in danger regardless of how he actually behaves. Are they calculated doses of abuse specifically designed to keep one off balance, in an exhausting state of constant fear?

As an example, in the season 4 finale when Prime teleports Catra, Glimmer and Hordak to his throne room, after he inquires as to why he can’t sense Hordak’s thoughts in a calm fashion, you can see Hordak already quivering in fear. He already knew what was coming. He was on his knees, begging for mercy but his face, posture, gestures and tone of voice tells us that he already knows he will not receive any. That scene unsettles me still. He knew that Prime’s initial calm was no indication of safety.

We, humans, learn how to behave by studying our parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles and later, our friends and entourage. We have multiple examples, in our formative years of behaviour and we develop a preference on how to act ourselves based on how likable our examples are and how successful they are at determining the right reactions in others. It’s a slow process that, for the most part, happens without our conscious awareness of it (at least in our first years of life).

For his clones, Horde Prime might be the only example of a person that they have available. (Little brothers are not people, only parts of the whole). His reactions and behaviour are the only things they have to base any interactions off of. There is no other alternative, no better or calmer or more balanced person as a counter example. (Besides… Prime is all, there is no better than Prime, he is the Eternal Light… yada yada) Regardless of the fact that they don’t see themselves as people and they should not actively develop a personality, it happens anyway because under all their erasure and all of the indoctrination, they are still people. The clones begin, at least in their heads, emulating their big brother. You can see some of that in how individual clones react to Catra and Glimmer on Prime’s ship.

This brings us back to Hordak and his anger management issues. Does his use of verbal violence resemble Prime in scope and goal? Are his outbursts calculatedly cruel and unpredictable?

Hmm...not really. They come off more as bratty, more like he’s throwing a tantrum. His outbursts are usually preceded by a simmering frustration that he probably has no healthy way of dealing with. For the most part, he has no means of dealing with any emotion. He was never supposed to have any emotions to begin with so he is ill equipped to understand and cope with them. Him being emotionally stunted is not a bug, it’s a feature. The only open expression of emotion he is used to is Prime’s anger, and so, all emotions are expressed in that fashion. Be it shame, anxiety, frustration, loneliness and to some degree, even confusion. When he has a positive emotion, he is unsure how to express it with the means he has available, which leads to dorky declarations of indirect friendship.

A lot of his behaviour is, in hindsight, a bad imitation of Prime: His attempts at cowering his underlings, his self-imposed isolation, his dismissal of Catra when she tries to report to him while he is working with Entrapta and more. For all his bluster, his attempts at being imposing and superior come off as clumsy once you take a peek under the veneer, as Catra herself discovers. It becomes hard to tell what he’s actually like by himself when he’s not trying to fill his brother’s big shoes.  

The only person he starts acting naturally around is Entrapta and, unfortunately, he doesn’t manifest a different type of reaction with her either. He has a short temper and snaps at her too. The difference emerges when Entrapta is not cowed by the outbursts (unlike everyone else in the Horde). She calls them tizzies and for the most part, either ignores them or tries to calm him down with logic. And… it works. (except for that one, unfortunate time).

The only other example of a spacebat we have is Wrongie and he seems more prone to outbursts of crying rather than shouting. However, he has about 2 minutes of screen-time tops and the show treats his ordeal of being cut off from all he knows and his deconversion more like a gag rather than the traumatic experience it really is. The only outburst he has is pre-brain-scramble and arguably… it’s justified. Entrapta and Bow were intruders, trying to dispose of them was a natural conclusion.

To close all of this rambling, it is impossible to tell with all the evidence we have from the show whether it’s an innate behaviour. Prime is violent because he’s an abusive prick and because his violence is always rewarded with a positive outcome. Whether he was less violent at some point and became more due to positive reinforcement of such conduct throughout the centuries or millennia of his existence is irrelevant at this point.  His little brothers internalise that behaviour as the norm and act accordingly. It becomes natural to them sadly. It is a learned behaviour from the only example they have ever had. 

Unlearning it will be difficult.

EDIT: Their flat emote that defaults to anger also makes it very hard for some fans of the show to actually empathize with them. Most people don’t look under the anger to see what exactly they are trying to express. They take these outbursts at face value and see a vicious, rabid and cruel animal where some of us know that what we are seeing is a creature that has known only violence and as such, will bite at any hand that comes near, for hands have only been used to hurt it.